


Try Again, Try Again

by gertie_flirty



Series: Last Words of a Shooting Star [1]
Category: Ranma 1/2
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gertie_flirty/pseuds/gertie_flirty
Summary: At eighteen years old, Ranma suffers a devastating loss. As he approaches thirty, he meets a mysterious woman who changes everything.
Relationships: Saotome Ranma/Tendou Akane
Series: Last Words of a Shooting Star [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193036
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	1. Beginning

The day everything changed started out like any other.

They woke up. Ate breakfast. Began their walk to school.

Halfway there, she said his name. 

“Ranma.”

He looked down at her, from where he had been walking along the top of the fence. She had stopped on the sidewalk and was staring up at him, clutching her schoolbag in front of her with both hands. Her eyes were wide and her mouth seemed thin. Something serious was happening, which made him nervous.

He crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“What’s up?”

“I don’t want to go to school today.”

“What?”

“I want to go to the beach. Will you come with me?”

He raised one eyebrow. Looked around. It was still the middle of spring, and the sky was white with clouds. She was still wearing the long sleeved version of her school uniform, and he was wearing his long sleeved mandarin shirt. 

“It’s kinda cold for the beach, isn’t it?”

“I know. But—” She hesitated. Bit her bottom lip. “Please?”

Something was wrong. He could feel it in his spine. Normally he would want to argue, tell her it was a stupid idea. But she was looking up at him, and her eyes were shining, and she wasn’t smiling.

“All right.”

They turned down the next corner and headed for the train station. She was quiet on the train ride, even though he had a hundred questions. A thousand questions. She never wanted to skip school. She was such a good student. 

Most of the shops at the seaside were still closed, not yet open for the season. The wood of the boardwalk was warped and in disrepair. The wind here was more blustery, blowing the hem of her skirt around as she stepped out onto the sand. She had taken off her shoes and socks, letting them dangle from the fingers of one hand. He took off his own shoes, burying his toes into the sand, feeling each individual grain as they flowed over his skin. 

She took a seat, only ten feet from where the waves met the shore. Wind blew her hair into the sides of her face, and she futilely tried to tuck it behind her ears. He took a seat next to her, bending his knees, resting his forearms on top. 

“So are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“I just wanted a day at the beach, that’s all.”

His heart felt tight. Fear was clouding his brain. Maybe she had finally gotten sick of him. Tired of all the misery he had put her through. This was it. She was going to break up with him, for good, and he would deserve it. 

“Listen, just come out and say it—”

“Ranma. Can we just talk for a bit?”

“About what?”

“Anything. Anything! Tell me—tell me about when you were a kid. Where’s the best place you and your dad ever went?”

“I—” He tried to think. She seemed genuine. He told her about a waterfall they had found in the mountains of Hokkaido when he was ten years old. She smiled as he talked, asking questions, laughing if he said something funny. After a while, it felt like it did during all the good times they had together, when they could make easy conversation without someone coming along and interrupting it. 

He tried to ask her similar questions, but she would deflect. Just wanting to know more about him. But she already knew plenty, and he ran out of material quickly. 

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’d like to hear it again.”

He repeated stories. Stories he knew that she knew, stories of events she had been present for. And she seemed so happy. Just kept smiling. The smile that he had dreamed of since the very first day they met. Maybe things were all right after all.

It was nearly lunchtime when she stood, stretched, and started walking back up the beach. They ate lunch together at one of the few places that were open, a dinky ramen shop where the food was unpredictably delicious. Afterwards, they walked a little down the boardwalk, which was otherwise deserted. 

At one point she paused, leaned her arms against the railing, looked out over the sea. He did the same, right next to her. 

“Ranma.”

“What is it?”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“What is it?”

She turned to face him. There those eyes were again, warm and full of tears that weren't falling.

“Would you kiss me?”

“What—what—what—” 

He was blushing. His shoulders tensed up, his hands out, his fingers spread apart.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you don’t want to. I just—please. As a favor.”

He wanted to. He had always wanted to. But here? In public?

But there was no one else around. No one even knew where they were. 

“I do. Want to. It’s just—”

“Just what?”

“I don’t know why you’re asking now.”

“I just want one day. One day of peace. Here at the beach. With you. So, please, Ranma.”

He couldn’t tell her no. Not right here. Not after everything they had been through.

Trembling, he placed his hands on her shoulders. Leaned down. 

He expected something to happen. A punch from a rival suitor. An errant volleyball striking him in the head. A sudden tsunami washing them away.

There was none of that. Only them, and the wind. 

Their lips touched. Lightly at first. Then when he realized that it was actually happening, that it was real, that nothing was stopping them, he pressed forward, wrapping his arms around her back as she put hers around his neck. 

He didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time they kissed in her life.

They parted. She looked up at him, still holding onto his neck, smiling, still not letting the tears fall.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied stupidly. He wanted to do it again. Again and again and again. He was mad at himself for never having done it before. He didn’t want to let her go.

But she pulled away. Walked back down to the beach. Only made it a few feet before she sunk down into the sand, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face in her arms.

He followed after her. Sat next to her again. 

“Please tell me what’s wrong.”

She didn’t look up. 

“Ranma.” 

He could see her bury her fingers into the sleeves of her dress, clutching tightly at her arms.

“Ranma, don’t be so kind to me.”

“I don’t get it. You want me to be mean to you?”

“No, I just—I just— She looked up. She was crying now. Letting the tears fall, finally. 

“What’s wrong?”

She took a deep breath in. Voice shaking, she said, “I went to the doctor yesterday.”

It was bad news. Very bad news. 

He listened. She hadn’t told her father yet. She hadn’t told her sisters yet. Only Ranma, and only just now. 

He didn’t know what to say. He put his arm around her as the sobs wracked her body. She screamed into the wind. He wanted to scream with her, but he knew she needed him to be strong. But he didn’t know how long he could be strong. 

That was his job, though. To be the strong one. It always had been. He would be strong for her. There wasn’t anything else he could do. This wasn’t a monster he could fight. 

He held her hand on the train. 

He surprised himself when he asked her, “Do you want to get married?”

“No.” 

The answer came almost instantly. He felt a little heartbroken.

“Oh.”

“Just because--I don’t want to get married just because I’m sick.”

She could be stupid sometimes. 

“Okay then,” he said. “When you get better though?”

She smiled weakly, staring straight ahead. “When I get better.”

She never got better.

She got weaker and weaker. It wasn’t long until she was nothing but skin and bones, her hair falling out, her face hollow and tired constantly. She wanted to stay at home, until the end, like her mom had. He and her sisters took turns caring for her, even as things grew harder. 

She made him promise that when she was gone, he would look after her family. He promised he would try his best, but he didn’t know what he would be able to do for them. 

He didn’t know what happened to the other girls, the ones that had fought for his affection so hard. They seemed to fade away, perhaps out of shame, or realizing that he was truly devoted to one person only and would never bother to give them the time of day. 

The last day, it was his turn to check on her. He had knocked on her door, opened it, tried to give her a cheery greeting, tease her a bit. But she was barely breathing. He held her, cried. Screamed her name over and over. 

And then he felt her life pass out of her. Her body go still.

Her family was there, but he was selfish. He didn’t want to let her go. It wasn’t until her oldest sister placed her hand on his shoulder that he looked up, saw that she looked as heartbroken as he was, that he finally loosened his grip. Let her family mourn as he crumpled to the bedroom floor, his mother rubbing his back. 

He didn’t leave his bed for weeks. Only for her wake, and then the funeral the following day. Her family was similar, her sisters staying secluded in their rooms, her father not leaving his. And her father, for once, wasn’t crying at her services. He looked lost, his eyes far away. His wife, and now his daughter. Both gone the same way. 

It was his own mother that held the house together, and surprisingly, his father. His mother cooked them meals that they mostly didn’t eat. His father, helping with the housework, however poorly. Slowly, they all seemed to heal together. Eventually they all were eating their meals together in the living room, attempting to make conversation.

He was always silent. The seat next to him was always empty.

On the forty-ninth day, they interred her ashes. And he knew he had to leave. 

“I’ll come back,” he told them. “I’ll visit. I’m not leaving forever.”

His mother begged him not to. It hurt to refuse her, but he couldn’t explain how he just couldn’t be there anymore. How he couldn’t live there anymore. Without her, the house was empty, no matter how many people lived there. 

He did come back, over the years. His parents moved out into a place of their own. Her eldest sister got married, had children. Her other sister went to university, became a successful businesswoman. They always seemed glad to see him, when he came around. Even her father. 

It had been nearly six years since she died when on one of his visits back, he asked her father about the dojo. He had shut it up, simply saying that it was his daughter’s place, where he had trained her and raised her to be a brave and strong martial artist. 

Ranma wanted to open it again. Wanted to teach classes, train new students. Her father refused. There was no point to carry on their school without her. 

He left again. He ran into an old friend, on the road, several times. A boy that had loved her nearly as much as he did. His friend moved on, though. With another girl, they got married, and he went to their wedding. Put on a happy face. Tried to be strong. Made it the whole way through and didn’t cry once until he got back to his hotel room. 

She would have wanted him to be happy. She would have danced with him at that wedding. 

As he neared thirty, he got tired. He rented a small, tiny really, apartment above a restaurant where he picked up work as a fry cook and bar back. He went to work. Drank a lot at the end of every shift. Would climb the stairs to his apartment, drink more if he had beer in his house, and pass out. And do it all over again the next day.

Until one day, when everything changed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> playlist:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1YqrbocMPAvrwFS2pxz4Gs?si=Z2zTSfAvQpSifuRBjvQx5w


	2. Meeting

“Saotome! You finished with your shift?”

“I’m three beers deep, you tell me,” Ranma said, lifting the bottle to his lips. The late night bartender was also the owner, and also his boss. He had just started his shift and was standing behind the bar, directly across from Ranma. 

“You know you really shouldn’t drink so much,” his boss said.

“Hey I always get the job done, don’t I?”

“That’s the only reason you have a job,” his boss muttered. 

Ranma gave him a sloppy grin. No matter how much he drank, he somehow always managed to drag himself into work and give one hell of a performance. His boss turned away, talking to one of the bussers, and Ranma let his vision blur a little, staring at the posters and bottles adorning the rear wall. Some unrecognizable rock song was playing on the jukebox, but the volume wasn’t as loud as it should’ve been. Speakers were probably dying, so he was sure looking forward to the next week or so of his boss attempting to fix it before finally giving in and calling an electrician. 

He finished his beer, slammed the empty bottle down, and gestured for a new one. 

“This one you gotta pay for,” his boss said, cracking open a new bottle.

“Ah, come on,” Ranma whined. “Just take it outta my check.”

“There’s not much of your check left to take.”

“This round is on me,” spoke up a small, sweet voice. 

Both Ranma and his boss turned to look at the source of the offer. A curvy, elegant looking woman sat perched on a stool at the end of the bar. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a bun, with stylish and smooth sideswept bangs. She had her legs crossed, causing the hem of her pencil skirt to rise up just above her knee. Her button down white blouse was crisp, too clean for a place like this. She gave them both a pleasant and calm smile.

“Fine,” his boss muttered, setting the beer down in front of Ranma before turning away again.

Ranma picked up the bottle and looked at the woman skeptically. “Thanks for the beer. But I’m telling you now, I’m not interested.”

She seemed amused. “Interested in what, exactly?”

“In you.” He tilted the bottle back, taking a long drink.

She laughed. It was one of those gentle, mirthful laughs, the type that never contains any malice or hint of mockery. “Trust me, I’m not interested in you, either.”

“Really?” asked Ranma. “Then how come you’ve been here at the bar every night for the past week, staring at me?”

“You’ve noticed?” Her tone didn’t contain any surprise.

“You’re not exactly subtle. Office ladies like you don’t come to a place like this.”

“Well, sometimes they do.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’re staring at me, though.” 

She paused, biting her lip as the corner of her mouth pulled up into a smile. “You’re a martial artist, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “How did you know?”

“I’m a martial artist too,” she replied.

“Huh.” He set his bottle down on the bar and turned towards her fully. “What’s your name?”

She held out her right hand. “Kozue Sugishima.”

“Ranma Saotome.” He took her offered hand with his own, quickly pumping it up and down before releasing. “You shake hands?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’ve spent the last decade or so out of the country.”

“America, huh?”

“Something like that.” 

She hadn’t stopped smiling once. She seemed infinitely amused by everything Ranma said or did. 

“So what do you want with me?”

“I’m looking for—” She paused, again, pursing her lips playfully. “An instructor.”

“Heh,” he chuckled. “I don’t teach.”

“I can pay.”

“I have a job,” he said, turning back to his beer. “Pays well enough.”

At that moment, the ceiling above creaked loudly. Ranma, his boss, and Kozue all looked up to notice the plaster above them suddenly sag deeply before cracking open and depositing a torrent of water directly over Ranma’s head. 

“Saotome!” 

His boss fumed as the water continued falling.

“Uh—” Ranma had shrunk, down into his girl form, a sight his boss was long used to after many dishwashing mishaps. 

“Did you leave a faucet running up there?!”

“No?” Ranma answered timidly. Thinking back to the morning, maybe he might have. 

A server had run into the maintenance closet and turned the water off, and the downpour finally stopped. 

“Somehow, just somehow,” his boss growled. “I know this is your fault.”

“Aw, come on!” Ranma shouted. “Those pipes are older than Hirohito!”

“That’s it, you get out of here! Don’t even come back to work until I’ve fixed this mess!”

“Where am I supposed to go, huh?”

“Not my problem!”

“You can stay with me.” 

Ranma turned around to stare at Kozue. She was still smiling, calm, standing up from the bar, only slightly damp. She was composed and seemed completely unsurprised at Ranma changing forms. 

“I told you I wasn’t interested,” Ranma grumbled.

“And I told you I wasn’t interested either,” Kozue replied. “In some washed up martial artist turned low wage fry cook? Trust me, I have other options.”

“Well good, cuz I certainly wasn’t interested in some prissy, uptight, plain faced OL,” he shot back. 

“I suppose I deserve that,” she replied, and for once her smile seemed to droop slightly. “But I do have a guest room that is empty, and remarkably free of water.”

Ranma stared up at the hole in the ceiling, the puddle on the floor, and then back at Kozue.

“All right. Let’s go.”

* * *

He fetched some hot water out of the kitchen before heading out with Kozue. The thing about switching forms was that it never healed his injuries, and it never seemed to affect the length of his beard stubble either. He rubbed his chin as he walked down the chilly night street. Couldn’t remember the last time he shaved. 

Kozue hummed as she walked slightly ahead of him, not seemingly caring one bit that it was late at night, or that she was inviting a very drunk, very strange man back to her house. She was honestly downright weird, and Ranma found it off putting.

“Hey,” he called out to her after they had walked a few blocks. “So, uh, aren’t you wondering? About my whole, uh, deal?”

“What do you mean?” she asked without stopping or turning around.

“Like how I, uh, just turned into a girl? And then back again?”

“Oh.” This did cause her to pause, although she still didn’t turn around. “Hmm. It’s Jusenkyo, right?”

“Yeah, you know about it?” He was surprised, but after all, he had met a shocking number of people with curses like his over the years. 

“Yes, I went there, once.”

“You have a curse yourself?” But she had gotten damp from the leak and didn’t change.

“Not exactly.” She paused in front of a set of gates. “Ah, here we are!”

She punched a security code into the keypad and the iron bars retracted into the stone walls of the gates, allowing her passage. She gestured for Ranma to follow her, and he did, giving everything a curious once over. Once inside the front door, she punched another code into another keypad, and the security system made the beep of releasing its vigilance. 

Ranma gazed up and around at the airy, modern architecture of the two story dwelling. Smooth hardwood floors, clean, white furniture. An open floor plan, with the living room and kitchen combined into one large area. A breakfast nook with tall, rectangular windows along the back wall.

As he took off his shoes, he let out a low whistle. “This place is nice.”

“You like it?” Kozue smiled up at him as she removed her own shoes. “Here. Slippers.”

She led him upstairs, opening a light colored wooden door to the guestroom. Like the rest of the house, this room too, was tastefully decorated, a light blue blanket on the queen sized bed. The furniture, again, all modern and sleek, but somehow it still seemed sparse.

“It even has its own bathroom,” Kozue said. “If you’d like to take a shower. Although, perhaps you’ve gotten wet enough already tonight.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ranma replied, looking around. Feeling a little guilty, he turned and looked at her. “Thanks. For letting me stay.”

“No problem at all,” she replied. “Sometimes I get lonely in this big old house all by myself. Nice to have some company, even if you’ll be in another room all night. Just to know there’s another living, breathing person here—ah, well, I’m getting carried away.”

“No, I—I get it.” 

He did. 

“Well then.” She stood in the doorframe, one hand on the knob. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

She shut the door, and he was alone. He took a seat on the bed, the mattress clearly unused. Everything in the house seemed new, dust free. But there weren’t any pictures up, no art. He tried to poke around the drawers of the night table and the dresser, but they were completely empty. The bathroom had two towels hanging on the rack, with brand new bars of soap in the shower stall. A full roll of toilet paper next to the toilet. 

Kozue had clearly never had a guest. Well, she had been out of the country a long time. Maybe she had only just moved in. Would explain a lot of things.

Ranma shrugged, turned off the light, and fell asleep.


	3. Hope

There were no curtains on the guest room window, and the sunlight blared in as Ranma awoke. He yawned. Stretched. Stood up and used the toilet. The bed had certainly been more comfortable than the lumpy piece of shit he called a mattress at his apartment.

As he headed downstairs, he made out the sounds of tiny clicks over the wooden floor and the soft yapping of a young dog. When he reached the bottom of the steps, said dog, a black labrador puppy, ran up to him and started sniffing his feet with great interest. 

"Well, you're a cute little guy, ain't ya?" 

Ranma crouched down and patted the puppy on his head. The puppy became overwhelmed with eagerness, unsure of whether to shove his head upwards into Ranma's hand or keep his nose buried deep into his toes. His little tail wagged fiercely in joy.

"I see you've met P-chan."

Ranma froze, still bent over. Color drained from his face. His shoulders tensed, rolling back. Slowly he turned around.

Kozue, standing four steps up, already dressed for the day, smiling down at him.

"Did you say—" Ranma took a deep breath. Licked his lips. Swallowed. "P-chan?"

"Yeah," she nodded, prodding lightly down the rest of the way. The small dog eagerly followed her as she walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a rubber container full of dog food from a cabinet. "You know, 'P' for 'puppy.'"

"Oh," Ranma said, slowly standing. "Right."

P-chan eagerly started munching the food she scooped into his bowl. Kozue returned the dog food to where she had gotten it and pulled out a box of cereal and two human bowls from other cabinets. As she portioned some out, she said, "I'm not much of a cook. Hope cereal is okay."

"Yeah, sure." Still feeling shaky, Ranma took a seat at one of the stools that lined the side of the kitchen island. The countertop was smooth, dark, possibly real marble. Did office ladies really make that much?

Kozue carried the bowls over, setting one in front of Ranma and the other in front of herself as she also took a seat on one of the stools. They ate quietly, the only sounds the cereal crunching between their teeth and P-chan's slurping sounds as he turned to his water.

After a few minutes, Kozue turned to Ranma, smiling again.

"So. I have a proposition for you."

"I told you, I'm not interested—"

"Not that, you pervert."

Ranma was a little pleased when he saw actual anger cross her face, even if it was just for a moment. 

"Then what?"

"Well, it seems you're gonna be out of work for at least the near future."

"I told ya, I don't teach—"

"And I'm not asking you to." She smiled, using her hands to smooth the front of her skirt. "I need a cook."

Ranma raised one eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Like I said, I'm just no good at it. And I'm tired of takeout and instant ramen. I just want to have a home cooked meal every once in a while."

"So you want me to cook? For just you?"

"Oh, and take care of P-chan," Kozue replied. "He's just a puppy and I don't feel right leaving him at home all day. I try and get home during lunch to walk him, but it's been getting harder and harder lately to make it back on time."

Ranma took another bite of cereal, thinking it over. At his feet, P-chan was sitting back on his haunches, giving him a dopey look.

Ranma sighed. "All right."

"Really?" Kozue's voice was full of excitement.

"Yeah, really. Like you said, I don't have a job right now anyway."

"Great!" Kozue beamed. "I have to leave soon, but feel free to make yourself at home. If you need to grab any of your stuff from your apartment or anything, go ahead and move it in."

Ranma rubbed his chin, his stubble scratching against his hand. "Probably just some clothes."

"No problem either way. If you need anything, just text me." She stood and grabbed a notepad from the other counter, scribbling down some notes. "And here's the code to the door and gates. Should be easy enough to figure out."

"I, uh—" Ranma rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't have a cell phone."

"Oh?" Kozue tapped the end of the pen against her chin. "Well, I can get you a cheap one on the way home. If you don't mind, that is."

"Free phone? Sounds good to me."

She smiled once more. Ranma felt more confused than ever. She said her goodbyes, first to himself and then to P-chan, and they both walked her to the door. Once alone, Ranma stared down at the dog.

"Just you and me, eh, boy?"

P-chan flopped over onto his back, legs in the air, mouth open, tongue lolling to the side.

Ranma smiled. "You're just as stupid as the other P-chan, huh?"

* * *

Ranma spent his morning taking P-chan for a walk around the neighborhood. He tried to stop by his apartment to grab some clothes, but his boss still refused to let him up there. After dropping P-chan back at Kozue’s house, Ranma decided to go to his parent’s instead, as it was only a few miles away. He enjoyed the jog, although his clothes were starting to become a little stinky. 

He arrived at his parent’s, a small one story building that his mother kept in good repair, although it wasn’t nearly as modern or impressive as Kozue’s house. He knocked a few times on the front door. 

His mother answered and smiled when she saw him.

“Ranma.”

“Hey Mom.”

“Come in, come in.” 

She led him inside, through to the living room, where his father reclined on the floor, watching television.

“Hey Pop.”

Genma gave him a wave over his shoulder, but kept his attention on the television.

Ranma rolled his eyes and sat down at the low table with his mother.

“How have you been, Ranma? We haven’t seen you in nearly three months.”

“Oh, you know. Just working a lot.”

“Well, that’s good. And you don’t smell like liquor.” His mother leaned over and sniffed his shirt. “Although you do smell.”

“That’s actually why I came here. My apartment flooded, and I was hoping you still had some of my clothes stored away.”

“Sure, sure, we have a couple boxes.” Nodoka smiled. “I’m sorry about your apartment. At least you still have the same job, that’s nice.”

“Well—” Ranma grinned awkwardly. “I also got fired, sort of. Or maybe just suspended?”

“Ranma! When are you going to—”

“Don’t worry, I got a new job already!”

“You did?” asked Nodoka. “Where?”

“I guess I’m—” He frowned, looking upward. “I guess I’m like a private chef. For some rich lady.”

“A private chef?” Nodoka’s eyebrows arched skyward.

“Slash dog walker.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Ranma,” Nodoka said, shaking her head. “When are you going to settle down? You can’t keep going on like this. You’ll be thirty in less than a month.”

”You think I don’t know that?” Ranma snapped. “Besides, I’m fine. I told you. I have a job. I have a place to stay. I just need some clean underwear.”

“All right,” Nodoka said, defeated. “I just wish you would find somebody to take care of you. It’s hard seeing you so lonely.”

“I can take care of myself.”

She gave up arguing with him. Left the room. Returned with two boxes that had his name on them. There were sweaters, tees, pants. Most importantly, underwear. And his old, old silk Chinese shirts, that he hadn’t worn since he was a teenager. He picked those out and threw them aside, his mother  _ tsk _ ing in disapproval. 

“Thanks Mom,” he said, as he walked to the door. 

“Ranma.”

They paused in the entryway. She put one hand on her son’s back, the other over her heart. 

“Mom, listen—”

“No, I’m not going to nag you. I just—I wish your heart was still open. You used to be such a happy-go-lucky boy. And I know you’ve been through things that no one else can ever relate to. I just—I just worry. You shouldn’t shut yourself off anymore.”

“Mom, I—” He wanted to shout. Scream in her face. I’ll never love again! I’ll never love again! I’ll never love again! He swallowed it all down. It was his mother, after all. “Thanks. But you don’t have to worry.”

“I will anyway.”

Despite his protests, she shoved money into his pockets as she showed him out the door. He returned to Kozue’s, P-chan on his heels as he carried the boxes up to his room. He dug out a clean set of clothes and headed into the shower. P-chan whined from outside the frosted glass door for a few minutes before becoming bored and scampering off to somewhere else in the house. Ranma took the time to give himself a deep scrub, even untying his pigtail and washing his hair with vigor. 

When he finished, he got dressed and headed back down to the kitchen, P-chan’s nails skittering somewhere in the distance. Ranma poked through the cabinets, and fridge, but there was nothing. A few cups of yogurt. Four boxes of cereal. A gallon of milk. Ten cup noodles. Dog food.

And that was literally it.

“She really doesn’t cook, huh,” Ranma muttered to himself, closing the door to the empty pantry. P-chan slid to a stop next to him and looked up. “You wanna go to the store with me, boy?”

He took P-chan on a walk to the market, not even acknowledging the cashier when she yelled at him from behind the counter that he wasn’t allowed to bring his dog in here. He bought as many staples as he could. Rice, flour, bread, eggs. Various seasonings. His mother hadn’t given him that much money, so he opted to pick up ingredients for easy spaghetti for dinner. The cashier glared at him and P-chan as she rung up the groceries, but he ignored this as well. He took the dog home and made himself a sandwich for lunch, before deciding to look around the house a bit more. 

The living room, with its white couch, white chairs, white rug over the hardwood. A large television against one wall. On the ground floor, a large bathroom with a spa attached, and a deep traditional style tub. Another room, that seemed to be a small workout room of some kind. A set of free weights stacked against the wall, and another wall that was entirely mirrored. Upstairs, another guest room like his own, also sparsely decorated. A locked door that he didn’t want to try to pry too much into. And another bedroom, that he peeked in quickly, just to establish it was, in fact, Kozue’s. A short glance inside indicated that it was lived in, but neat. It seemed a bit more personal than the rest of the house, but he didn’t feel comfortable looking around too closely, so he shut the door and headed back downstairs. 

It wasn’t long before Kozue returned home, her voice singing out as she opened the door. P-chan ran up to her barking as she took off her shoes. 

“Hello! Hello, I missed you too, P-chan!”

Ranma smiled but didn’t look up from the stove, where he was stirring tomato sauce. 

“Aah, something smells wonderful,” Kozue said, as she walked into the kitchen, taking a seat at the island. 

“Hope you like spaghetti,” Ranma replied. He set a colander into the sink, ready to drain the pasta. 

“I do!” She paused. “Wait, I didn’t have spaghetti in the house.”

“You didn’t have anything in the house.” He lifted up the pot, dumped the noodles into the colander, the excess water flowing down the drain. 

“Oh no,” Kozue sighed. “I should have left you some money for groceries. How much did you spend? I’ll pay you back right now.”

“It’s fine,” Ranma said, shrugging. He turned and leaned back against the sink, crossing his arms. “I gotta eat too, after all.”

“But still! If you’re my chef, you have to be paid!” She looked determined as she dug through her purse, pulling out her wallet. “Now, how much?”

“I told ya—”

“How much?” Her voice was firm, and so was the look in her eyes.

“Stubborn, aren’t ya?” Ranma muttered before letting out a deep breath. “All right. Three thousand yen.”

“That’s it? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She handed him a much larger stack of bills than that. “Here. Extra. So you can pick up more things tomorrow.”

He raised one eyebrow, but put the money in his own pocket. “No problem.”

“And I think after dinner, I’ll take P-chan on a walk. Would you like to come along?”

“No thanks. Walked him twice today.”

“Oh great! I’m glad you’re getting so much exercise!”

She said this to the dog, who yapped appreciatively.

“Oh, and here,” she added, digging through her purse again and fishing out a small object. “New phone.”

Ranma took it from her and looked it over, flipping it open. “Thanks.”

“No problem. It’s nothing top of the line, but you can call, text, take pictures. I put my number in there already, but feel free to use it for whatever you want.”

He pressed the button under _Contacts_ and it showed the name _Kozue_ , followed by a smiley face and a number. “All right. I guess I’ll figure it out.”

“I hope you do.”


	4. The Ex

His days became steady again. He liked cooking, after all, and teaching P-chan basic tricks. He would jog with the dog in the morning, cook breakfast, see Kozue off to work. She kept giving him more and more money, but he just spent it on more things for the house. Stocking up the pantry, buying new appliances. A rice cooker. A toaster. A coffee maker, which Kozue particularly loved. It was nice to be able to cook something else besides shitty bar food, and Kozue always praised him effusively. 

After work, she liked to exercise in the workout room, and he could hear her shouting through various kata. After a while, he started practicing again when he was alone. It had been nearly a year since he had run through the basic kata of the Saotome school, and the first day his muscles were stiff. His stomach even had a bit of a pudge. Probably all the beer he had drank. Slowly, it started to go away, fade back to his familiar flat stomach. The moves came easier, and after only a week, he felt proud of himself for how much progress he had made.

“Who am I kidding, I’m a pro at this,” Ranma said to himself in the mirror after one workout. 

Kozue would text him occasionally while at work.  _ Do you need anything? Anything I can pick up on the way home? _ turned into _ How’d you sleep? What are you making for dinner? You want to rent a movie? _

And he slowly learned how to text back, although grasping new technology was awkward for him. _ No I’m good. Already went to store. Slept ok U? Kimchi. Sure action movie!!! _

The weather grew colder. Kozue brought home a little sweater for P-chan one day that she made Ranma promise to put on him for their walks. P-chan was growing quickly, however, and soon was too big. So she bought him another one in the next size up. Ranma dutifully dressed the dog everyday it was extra chilly, and eventually even bought himself a new winter coat, something he hadn’t had in years and years. 

She came home one day, her cheeks pink from the wind. She hung up her coat and walked into the kitchen, but Ranma wasn’t there. She picked up her phone and sent off a text.

_ >Hey are you home? _

She sat down on the couch, P-chan jumping up next to her, waiting for an answer. After several minutes, she got antsy and went up to her room. The door to Ranma’s room was open, and she couldn’t help but peek her head in. Ranma was sprawled out, fast asleep. 

She frowned and walked over to him, leaning down to smell his breath. No booze. She let out a sigh of relief. 

His eyes blinked open at that moment, possibly in reflex from the slight puff of air she had exhaled. 

“Kozue?” he mumbled in confusion, as her face hovered inches away from his own.

“Oh, I’m—I’m so sorry!” She blushed and backed away, waving her hands. “I just—you weren’t downstairs, and you didn’t answer my text, and I just worried—”

“You’re worried I got day drunk?” He gave her a sleepy half grin as he propped himself up on his elbows. 

“No, no, I just—” She paused. “Well. Kinda.”

“Nah.” He sat all the way up, scratching the small of his back. “Just had an extra hard workout today. I only meant to lay down for a minute.”

“Oh, you worked out?” Her expression brightened immensely.

“Yeah, I hope that’s not an issue.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Oh no, not at all!”

“All right, good. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was dinner time. I’ll get up and cook.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” she said, backing towards the door. “Get some rest. I can make cup noodle.”

“Nah,” he replied, gracefully jumping to his feet. “I’m your chef. So I gotta cook.”

“O—okay.” She followed him out into the hallway. As they passed the locked room, he stopped in his tracks, and she bumped into him from behind. 

“Kozue.”

“What is it?”

“What’s in there?”

“Oh? That’s just the library.”

“Library? Then why’s it locked?”

She moved to his side and looked up at him curiously. “It’s not. You just—”

She took hold of the knob. Wiggled it up and down. The door clicked open. “Just gotta jiggle it.”

She pushed it forward, and Ranma stepped inside the only room in the house he hadn’t seen. Tall shelves full of books lined the walls, and at the far end of the room the wall was just a giant window looking out over the backyard. A desk sat in front of the window, although it faced the door. There was a small stack of paperwork and a heavy looking laptop sitting on top. Ranma looked around the room, admiring the wide variety of titles on the shelves. He let his fingers rest on the spine of a familiar looking book. He pulled it down and held it in his hands, staring at the cover.

“Pride and Prejudice,” said Kozue from behind him. “My favorite.”

“Really?” Ranma smiled, but kept his gaze on the book. He turned it over in his hands. “It was the favorite of someone I used to know, too. She always wanted me to read it, but she only had an English copy. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.”

“Well that’s a pretty good translation,” she replied. “Feel free to read it anytime.”

“Okay,” he said, looking up and patting the book against the flat of his free hand. “I think I will.”

* * *

The next day, Ranma decided he was going to make a more elaborate dinner than usual, including a roast duck. He had to get started on it pretty early, but kept his phone on the kitchen island in case Kozue needed anything. A little after lunch, she did send him a text. 

_ >How’s P-chan? _

Ranma smiled and held up his phone, snapping a picture of the dog lying on his stomach on the kitchen floor, all four of his limbs splayed in different directions.

_ >Looks comfy. Wish I was home. ;_; _

_ >>You’ll be home soon enough. How’s work? _

_ >Work sucks! Tendo-san is being a real jerk to me today. _

Ranma dropped his phone and it fell to the counter with a clatter. With a shaking hand, he slowly picked it up, typing out his response.

_ >>tendo-san? _

_ >Yeah, my boss! Nabiki Tendo. She’s a real hard ass. _

Ranma closed his phone and set it down on the island, spinning around to face the stove, attempting to catch his breath. His phone buzzed again, the vibration echoing on the counter top. He ignored it, trying to keep his focus on the food. Just a coincidence. They all lived in the same town, after all. 

A darker thought crossed his mind. He tried to keep it out. 

His phone buzzed again.

He ignored it, again. 

It took a few more times, but eventually the buzzing stopped. 

* * *

“I’m home!”

P-chan had learned not to bark at anyone who came through the door, but he still ran up to her eagerly, taking in all the new smells she had picked up throughout the day. They walked into the kitchen, where Ranma was finishing plating dinner. He set the dishes on the island, where they usually sat, right as she walked into the room.

“Ranma! I’m glad you’re okay. You stopped replying to my texts.”

“Sorry, I just got caught up with what I was doing.”

She took a seat on the stool, staring up at him with concern. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“Actually, I—” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be honest. I was surprised when you said your boss was Nabiki Tendo.”

“Really?” Kozue asked. “You know her?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Kozue grinned. “Is she your ex or something?”

“No,” Ranma said, and despite himself, let out a deep laugh. “Absolutely not. I just—I’ve known her, and her family a long time.”

“Wow,” said Kozue. “Maybe you can put in a good word for me, then. Get her to go easy on me.”

“I don’t think my opinion would count for that much,” Ranma replied with a sad smile. “But Kozue—”

“Yes?”

“Is that how you found me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did she talk about me? At work?”

Kozue tilted her head to the side. “No. She’s never mentioned you.”

“Oh.” Ranma exhaled. “That makes sense.”

“What are you so worried about?”

“Actually, Kozue—” He frowned. “How did you find me?”

“I still don’t get what you’re asking me.”

“You showed up at the bar I worked at, already knowing who I am. How?”

“Oh, I—” She stared forward, thinking. “I’ll show you.”

She hopped to her feet and dashed upstairs, leaving Ranma staring after her in confusion. After a few minutes, she returned, carrying her beast of a laptop. She joined Ranma on his side of the island and opened the lid, and then typed a search into the web browser. A few more minutes went by as a video buffered, Ranma growing more confused by the second.

A grainy video began to play. It was a gray day in a seaside town, and the footage was blurry. But there was still, unmistakably, a giant octopus on the shore, sweeping its huge tentacles through buildings. And then, above, a young man with a pigtail, clearly fighting it.

“Ah,” Ranma said. “I remember this.”

It had been five years ago, when he was still on the road. The octopus had put up one hell of a fight, but he managed to tie it up with its own tentacles and send it back into the sea. Of course, he did get splashed by a wave, and changed into a girl at the end of the fight, but the townspeople seemed grateful nonetheless.

“You see?” Kozue paused the video on a frame depicting Ranma in midair. “I saw this when I was out of the country. Aerial combat. It’s my weakness. And I knew I had to have you as my teacher.”

“But how did you know my name?”

Maintaining eye contact, Kozue raised one eyebrow sardonically, and pressed play again.

A close up of Ranma, as a very wet girl. The cameraman shouting.

“Young lady! You saved us! What’s your name?”

Ranma, turning to the camera. Flashing a grin. 

“Ranma Saotome, of the Saotome Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts!”

“Ah,” said current Ranma, tapping his chin. “Now I remember.”

“So you see?” Kozue said, shutting her laptop. “Absolutely nothing to do with Nabiki Tendo.”

“Good,” Ranma sighed. “Let’s eat.”

As he crossed to the other side of the island, Kozue watched him curiously. 

“Hey, Ranma?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have an ex?”

He stared down at his plate. “Just one.”

“What was she like?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Kozue lowered her eyebrows in concern. “She must’ve hurt you pretty bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ranma said. “She did.”


	5. A Very Easy Distance

Another week passed. The temperature dropped even further. Ranma took P-chan on shorter walks and spent a surprising amount of his time reading. The relationship in the book seemed pretty familiar. No wonder she had always been trying to get him to read it. 

On Friday afternoon, he put in a good practice in the workout room. Man, he would kill to spar with a real opponent again. It had been so long.

The weather outside was terrible. The sky was gray and the wind howled so loudly he could hear it, even here, deep in the midst of his exercises. He didn’t hear the front door open, or the beep of the security system, or even the door to the room itself open behind him.

“Ranma—”

He noticed Kozue in the mirror as he was in the middle of a jump, and turned to face her as he landed. She looked pale, her cheeks red, her eyelids heavy.

“Kozue, I didn’t know you were coming home early.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” she sniffled. “I decided it was better to come home and rest.”

Panic shot through him. His nerves tingled through his fingers and toes. “You’re sick?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Just a cold. I just wanted to tell you I probably won’t eat dinner tonight.”

“Don’t be stupid!” He surprised himself with the strength of his words. “You need to eat. I’ll make you some soup.”

She shrugged weakly. “Well, maybe.”

He crossed the room instantly, placing a hand on her forehead. “You’re burning up. Come on.”

With no effort at all, he reached down and picked her up, cradling her as he carried her up the stairs. 

“Ranma, you don’t have to do this—”

“It’s fine, you need your rest.”

She didn’t argue anymore, even as he opened the door to her bedroom, gently setting her on the bed. P-chan had followed them, and he climbed up next to her, resting his head in her lap, concerned. She petted him lightly. 

“Now you get changed,” said Ranma. “I’ll go get you some water. Start on the soup. Do you need anything else?” 

“No, no, I’m fine, really.”

“Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

He went down to the kitchen to fetch a glass. He filled it with ice, then water from the faucet. Deep inside his chest, he felt something. Something he didn’t want to think about. With a grunt, he forced the feeling back down. He took a can of soup out of the pantry, dumped it into a pot, and turned on the stove. 

It was just a cold. She was an adult woman. It was just a cold. 

After she finished the soup, tucked into bed, P-chan at her side, Ranma went and got her another glass of water. He set it on her nightstand as she slid back against the pillows, her face still pale with pink cheeks. Her hair was starting to fall out of its normal bun and stick out around her face. 

“Anything else I can get you?"

“I have some cold medicine, actually,” she said. “In the cabinet in my bathroom.”

“Sure thing.” 

The master bath was attached to her room. He opened the cabinet, which contained nothing out of the ordinary. A disposable razor. Dental floss. An extra tube of toothpaste. Cold medicine, the liquid kind. He took it out to her and she downed the shot from the little cup that came with the bottle. He set it next to her water, in case she needed more later. 

“Is that all?”

“Actually—” She pulled the covers up to her chin. “It’s silly.”

“No, what is it?”

P-chan snuggled in close to her, laying his head on top of her chest. 

“Would you read to me?”

He smiled. “Okay.”

He went and fetched the book and returned, sitting by her bedside.

“I’m halfway through, I hope that’s all right.”

She nodded. “I know it by heart.”

He picked it up. Began reading. 

_ “How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?” _

_ “Perfectly so, I thank you.” _

_ She found that she was to receive no other answer, and, after a short pause added: _

_ “I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?” _

_ “I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in the future. He has many friends, and is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing.” _

_ “If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep it or quit it on the same principle.” _

_ “I should not be surprised,” said Darcy, “if he were to give it up as soon as any eligible purchase offers.” _

_ Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his friend; and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the trouble of finding a subject to him. _

_ He took the hint, and soon began with, “This seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford.” _

_ “I believe she did—and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object.” _

_ “Mr. Collins appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a wife.” _

_ “Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding—though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light it is certainly a very good match for her.” _

_ “It must be very agreeable for her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends.” _

_ “An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles.” _

_ “And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day’s journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance.” _

_ “I should never have considered the distance as one of the  _ advantages _ of the match,” cried Elizabeth. “I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled  _ near _ her family.” _

_ “It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.” _

“That’s good banter,” Ranma said, looking up.

“Mmm,” Kozue murmured, her eyes closed. “Keep going.”

Obligingly, he continued. Reading a little further, finally stopping right after Darcy confessed his love. Kozue was snoring contentedly, P-chan asleep alongside her. The wind was still howling outside, but otherwise the house was quiet.

Ranma stood, refraining from making any noise. He walked over to her door and pushed the lightswitch down. It was still just light enough that he could make out her face, a trail of drool escaping the corner of her mouth. He turned and walked out into the hallway, taking a deep breath and leaning against the wall. Something was pulling at him, inside his chest. 

It’s not right, it’s not right. He walked down the hall to his room, threw the book on his bed.

I’ll never love again.


	6. Her Name

She got better in no time. It was just a cold, after all. 

Another week passed. Kozue came home on Friday, yelling as she opened the front door.

“Ranma! Ranma Ranma Ranma! Yes, hello, P-chan, let me set this down—”

She was practically bouncing as she came into the kitchen, setting canvas shopping bags down on the countertop, their contents making clinking noises. 

“You’re in a good mood,” Ranma said, turning around and drying his hands with a dish towel. P-chan jumped up and down around her feet, caught up in the energy.

“I am!” She beamed. “I got a promotion!”

“That’s great,” Ranma replied, a genuine smile crossing his face. “Congratulations.”

“And I bought—” She pulled bottles out of one of the bags. “Wine, for me. And beer, for you!”

“I dunno, I haven’t drank in a while,” Ranma said, pulling a cardboard box out of one of the other bags. “But this is a good brand. Normally out of my price range.”

“It’ll be fun! We’ll celebrate! And there’s a great movie on tonight too! My coworker said it’s the best movie she’s ever seen in her life!”

“Well, a random recommendation by a stranger is always a good indicator of quality,” Ranma replied, setting the beer in the fridge. 

“So you’ll hang out with me, then?”

“I kinda always do, don’t I?” 

She smiled again, her eyes nearly closing with happiness. He had to admit it wasn’t a bad smile. Not bad at all. 

She left him to shower and change, and he fetched a wine glass out of the cabinet and set it on the counter to wait for her. He decided to change dinner plans at the last minute, making quick bar food like chicken fingers and potato skins they could eat in front of the television. P-chan stayed close to his heels as he cooked the bacon, and Ranma fed him an occasional piece since Kozue wasn’t there to scold him. 

When Kozue returned, she had her bun pulled higher up on her head and assembled in a messier manner than usual, some of the ends sticking out. Her clothes looked comfortable, a long-sleeved lilac t-shirt that was cut to droop off one of her shoulders, revealing the strap of a black sports bra. The shirt was loose in the chest, but hugged her waist and wide hips, and she wore only a pair of capri-cut black leggings underneath.

“Ah, Ranma, whatever you made smells great.” She took a seat at the island and poured a glass of wine. 

“Just a bunch of greasy stuff. But we can eat it while we watch the movie.”

“You’re a genius!” Kozue said, smiling over the top of her glass. 

They took the wine, beer, food, and a pile of napkins over to the coffee table in front of the couch. Kozue picked up the remote and turned on the television, flipping to the correct channel. P-chan hopped up on the couch next to Ranma.

“Are we sure we still wanna let him on the furniture?” Ranma asked.

“Of course! Why not?”

“He’s just getting a little big for this,” Ranma replied, trying to shove the dog’s head down as P-chan was poking through the crook of his arm to get at his food. 

“Aw, it’s cute.” She broke a piece off of a chicken tender and leaned over Ranma’s lap, offering it to the dog, who accepted it happily.

“You told me not to give him any people food.”

“It’s a special occasion.”

By the time the movie started, Kozue had started on her second glass of wine. Ten minutes into the film, a character got murdered on screen and she jumped with a yelp, hiding her eyes with one of her hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ranma asked, as she pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around herself, leaving a tiny gap for her eyes. 

“I hate scary movies! I didn’t know it was scary.”

“You didn’t?”

“No! My coworker just said it was really good and that I had to see it.”

Ranma raised an eyebrow. “It’s called Blood Kill.”

“I thought it was a metaphor!”

He started laughing, crossing his arms as his shoulders shook. He was two beers in, and starting to feel a little lighter. “A metaphor for what?”

“Ranma! Don’t laugh at me!"

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, trying to stop. “Look, it’s just a movie, okay? It’s not real.”

“I guess,” she murmured. She tentatively poked her head out and picked her glass of wine back up from the table. “I still don’t like it.”

As she drank more wine, he thought she would grow braver, but it was the opposite. Any time anything remotely suspenseful happened, she would either hide her face in the blanket, or, when he leaned forward to grab his beer, behind his back, grabbing his shoulder. Her hands were so small, her fingers so slender. He tried not to think about it.

When the movie finally ended, she let out a long sigh of relief. “Aah! That was terrible.”

She leaned forward to pour herself another glass, and found the bottle empty. “I definitely need more wine.”

With ease, she leapt over the back of the couch, heading towards the kitchen. Ranma turned and watched her, impressed at her agility. She must be a pretty good martial artist after all. He stared at her figure from behind as she pranced over the smooth floor, barefoot. The way the shirt hugged her waist. She really did have a good figure. Big breasts. Wide hips. A fat—

He looked up at the ceiling. 

“More wine, more wine!” She sang, lifting the new bottle with one hand, her glass in the other. She walked over to the couch, and bent over the back of it, stretching to set both on the coffee table. Her limbs were too short to reach, so Ranma aided her as she tilted forward. Her face hit the cushions and she giggled. 

“Do you really need more wine?”

“Oh! Ranma!” She suddenly pushed herself up with her arms and fumbled around until her hands landed on the remote. “I have an idea!”

She pushed a few buttons and the television shut off, and uplifting pop music began to play through the sound system instead. 

“I didn’t know it could do that,” Ranma said, looking around in wonder.

“Let’s dance!” Kozue said, standing upright with false steadiness. 

“I’m not much of a dancer—”

“Come on, come on!”

She grabbed his wrists, pulled him up, over to the empty patch of floor near the entryway. She released him and started awkwardly moving her body to the music, attempting to roll her hips, balling her hands into tiny fists and shaking them back and forth, giving him a goofy, drunk grin.

“Jeez, you have even less rhythm than me,” Ranma said, smirking.

“Exactly! So don’t feel embarrassed! Just dance!”

P-chan was rotating in a circle on the floor, his tail wagging happily. 

“Fine, fine,” Ranma laughed.

He started to move his feet back and forth, but his dancing really wasn’t much better than hers. At one point he even took one of Kozue’s hands and lifted it up, allowing her to spin. She lost her balance and started to tilt over, but Ranma easily caught her around the waist. He lifted her back up, but they were chest to chest now. She stared up at him with wide brown eyes, the tip of her nose red from the effects of the alcohol. He looked back down at her, swallowing the lump in his throat. Breath was hard to find.

He closed his eyes. Saw the smile of someone else. Grabbed Kozue by her shoulders. Pushed her back. 

“I’m actually wiped out,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Ranma—”

But before she could say anything else, he was gone, up the stairs, clearing them in one jump. He shut himself in his room, falling back on his bed, panting. He rolled over to his side, clutching his pillow. It was just the effects of the alcohol. He hadn’t had anything to drink in ages, and tonight he had drank half a dozen beers.

He closed his eyes. Felt a stirring in his groin. Something he hadn’t felt in a while. Despite his better judgment, he stuck his hand down his pants, in between his legs. It had been years since he had done this. He had only ever thought of one person, the same person, for years. As he got older, he started to feel like a creep for masturbating to thoughts of a dead teenager and had stopped completely. But now, here he was again, hard in his own grip. Closing his eyes, trying to think of her again. Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system.

But her face faded to Kozue’s. How he had seen down her shirt, the pale flesh of her breast spilling over the side of her sports bra. When she had bent over to pick up another piece of food, her round ass in his face, the fabric of the leggings stretching out. 

“Damn,” he murmured into his pillow, pumping harder. “Damn.”

At least she was age appropriate. Even had laugh lines developing along the corners of her mouth. Her sweet, full mouth, her lips always smooth and shiny. 

His breathing became heavier. Any minute now.

What would it be like? To touch her? The way he had never touched any woman? To give in, finally, finally, after all this time. To just let go.

He came.

He rolled onto his back, panting and staring at his hands. What had he done? What was he doing? 

He stood. Walked to the bathroom. Washed his hands. Took a long look at himself in the mirror. His cheeks flushed. His stubble, wiry and starting to curl. At least his head did feel a little clearer. 

He turned off the bathroom light and headed back to bed. 

Tomorrow, he would tell Kozue the truth.

* * *

“Good morning!”

Kozue was already awake, in the same outfit she had been wearing the night before, hunched over at the island, eating breakfast. P-chan happily chomped away at his own food over in the corner. Ranma descended hesitantly down the stairs. She seemed cheerful, normal.

“Good morning.” He took a seat beside her.

“I got up early and decided cereal was more than good enough, so don’t worry about cooking anything,” she said, smiling at him.

“Yeah, okay.” Ranma just looked at her, his shoulders low.

She paused eating, setting her spoon down in the bowl. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, I—I guess it’s best to get it out in the open.” He looked down at his hands in his lap, remembering what they looked like the night before. “About last night—”

“Last night?”

“Yeah, I know I just ran out of here, but that’s because—”

“Because?”

He sighed. “Let me start over. Remember when we first met, and I said I wasn’t interested?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, I’m still not.”

Her smile faded. “Oh?”

“It’s just—I can’t. I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

He took a deep breath. “I lost the love of my life when I was eighteen years old.”

She stiffened as he looked up at her. “I see.”

“And it—it was so crazy, what we went through. Stuff no one would ever believe.”

“Would you like to tell me?”

“Actually, yes,” he said. “When we met, we were just kids. Sixteen. An arranged marriage.”

“Pretty outdated, even back then.” A small sympathetic smile appeared on her face.

“We certainly thought so. We fought it, tooth and nail. But the truth is, I had fallen for her the very first day we met. She was like no one else. But I was a dumb coward. I never told her how I really felt. Not even at the end. We only ever kissed, really kissed, one time.”

“You were just kids,” Kozue said softly, repeating his words. 

“But I—” He shook his head. “I should have done more. And then, one day, she got sick. And she got worse and worse, and I watched her die. I held her as she died. Only eighteen, and she was gone. And I knew, I knew, I could never love anyone, ever again. Not the way I loved her.”

“That’s—” Kozue paused. Licked her lips. “Heartbreaking. I’m so sorry.”

“No, I—” He shook his head again. His throat felt thick. God, he didn’t want to cry. “It was a long time ago.” 

“Still, you shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t. She shouldn’t.”

“Can I ask—?”

“What?”

“You were only eighteen,” Kozue said softly. “How do you know she was the love of your life?”

“Because I still think about her every day,” Ranma replied without hesitation. “I close my eyes, I see her smile. I hear her laugh. She’s always there. Every time.”

Kozue nodded. Stared down at her cereal bowl. Poked her spoon through the milk, but didn’t take a bite. 

“Can I ask one more question?”

“All right.”

“What was her name?”

Ranma hesitated. He realized he hadn’t said her name out loud, in years and years. Not even when he was around her family. Not even when he was alone, with himself. It was so hard to even think, most days. And here Kozue was, looking at him with tears in her eyes that weren't falling, and he knew he had to tell her. He wanted to tell her. 

“Akane.”

The word hung in the air in the silent house. Even P-chan was silent, possibly asleep somewhere. Only the refrigerator made the slightest hum. 

Ranma stared at her as she nodded, turned away. Stood. 

“Thank you for telling me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get dressed for the day.”

She left him. Climbed the stairs. Entered her room. Shut the door behind her. Clutched her hands over her mouth as she pressed her back against the wood and slid down to the floor. Covered her face and tried to muffle the sounds as she smiled and cried happy tears.


	7. Long Enough

Another week passed. Kozue acted normal, not putting any pressure on Ranma. Not bringing up what he had told her. Still, he felt a pang in his chest whenever he looked at her. She was really too good for him. Sweet, and selfless, and so passionate. At dinner, she would get fired up about her co-workers if they had wronged her in any way. She caught a pervert on the train and twisted his arm so hard it popped out of his socket. If she heard a sad story on the news she would start crying, even though she tried to hide it from him.

Maybe it was time for him to leave. Move on. Find another job. He could probably stay at his parents house for a while. Maybe even visit Ryoga. 

For some reason, he stayed.

On Saturday morning, he finally finished the book. He marched downstairs, holding it up proudly. Kozue was bent over near the back door, in her windbreaker, lacing up her sneakers as P-chan bounced around her in excitement.

“Hey!” Ranma called to her from the bottom of the steps. “I finished the book!”

“That’s great!” She said, rising to her feet. “Let’s talk about it at dinner.”

“Sure,” he said. “I was just wondering, though—”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have another book that’s good?” 

“Hmm.” She smiled thoughtfully, tilting her head. “You liked that one?”

“Yeah, it was great.”

“Then I think, maybe, The Convenient Marriage. It’s up in the library.”

“Cool, thanks.”

“You know, it’s not that cold out today. Me and P-chan are going to play in the back. You wanna come?”

“Maybe later. I’m gonna go switch books.”

“Okay.”

He left her, again, as she slid open the back door and headed outside. It took him a minute to jiggle the knob to the library door just right, but he managed to get it open. He returned Pride and Prejudice to the shelf he had taken it from, where there was still a small gap between the other books around it. He scanned the shelves, looking for the book Kozue had mentioned. Unfortunately he couldn’t make sense of the organizational system. 

Eventually he figured out it was by author, but by the English version of their names, even if the author was Japanese and the book was in Japanese. How stupid. And he didn’t even know the author of the book, so he was still stuck scanning titles.

“Ah, here we go!”

It was tucked at the end of one shelf, second from the bottom. He got down on his hands and knees, pulled it out and flipped it over to read the summary. Huh. Sounded appropriate, even though it was probably another mushy love story. 

He climbed to his feet, bracing his hand on the edge of the desk. He took a few steps forward and looked out of the window, down into the yard. Kozue was playing with P-chan, throwing a ball and encouraging him to catch it. However, although P-chan had learned basic commands like sit and lay down, fetch seemed to stretch the limits of his brain cells a little too far. Half of her throws would bounce off his snout and land in the grass, and the other half he just let sail over his head. And then he would pick the ball up, but never returned it to her, instead opting to run as fast as he could in a circle around the yard, almost deliberately keeping his distance.

Even from up here, Ranma could make out the signs of frustration on Kozue’s face. Her eyes narrowed, her mouth pulled into a deep frown. She would give chase, eventually wrestling the ball away from the dog, and then attempt a forced smile before throwing it again.

Ranma found the whole display amusing. He had never really considered himself a dog person before, but he was opening up to the idea. 

Something caught the corner of his eye.

He turned to look at the wall. There was a gap between the shelves and the window. After all, it’s not like they could be pushed right up against the glass or anything. Ranma had never been this far into the library before and had never noticed. But there, on the wall, hanging upside down, a dried bouquet of flowers. 

Carnations.

The color drained from his face. It was the only piece of personal decoration in the entire house, he realized. Tucked away into a corner. 

“Honestly, P-chan!”

She had shouted so loud in her frustration that he could hear her through the glass. He snapped his attention back down to her, watching her run around after her pet once more.

His blood was rushing, his heart thumping in his ears. His chest heaved as his breath came in short bursts. He looked back at the dried carnations. 

Who was she? Was she some psycho? A stalker who had tracked him down? Trapped him in her house? How long had she been setting this up? And had she contacted the Tendo family? Of course, she worked for Nabiki. The thought of her interacting with them to dig up information made his blood boil. What kind of insanity was this?

He hesitated. Thought back to the night she had a cold. 

No, she had to be crazy. The other possibility—well, it wasn’t really a possibility at all, was it?

Was it?

An idea took shape, slowly. And he knew how to figure out the truth. But if he was wrong—and of course, he had to be wrong—she was going to think he was the crazy one.

* * *

“Ah, Ranma!” Kozue smiled at him as she and P-chan came through the backdoor. She slipped off her sneakers. “Did you find the book?”

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms, standing at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in his gi.

“Look at you! Are you going to work out?” Strands of hair stuck out around her face, having been loosened by the wind. She crossed to the kitchen, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Yeah,” he repeated, not moving. “Did you want to spar with me?”

Mid-sip, she lowered the bottle of water, nearly choking on the mouthful behind her lips. After she swallowed, her entire face brightened. “Really? You want to spar with me?”

“Yeah, I do. Do you want to?”

“Yes! Oh, absolutely, yes!”

She ran past him up the stairs to her own room, coming down not even five minutes later dressed in her own gi, crisp white with a black belt. She slid down the stair railing, landing on her feet in front of him, still smiling. 

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t return the smile. “I’m ready.”

They entered the workout room, taking their places across from each other. She seemed to be almost vibrating with excitement. 

“Now I’m not gonna go easy on you,” she said teasingly. 

“Don’t want you to,” he grunted in reply. He kept his arms crossed.

“Ready?” She brought her hands up, bent her knees. Stance too wide.

Coincidence. 

“Let’s begin!”

She rushed forward, throwing a punch. He simply tilted to the side, avoiding it. She threw another punch with her opposite hand, and he tilted to the other side. As he came to center, she kicked straight forward and he bent backwards as her foot flew past his nose. He bounced back up as she retracted her leg.

This doesn’t mean anything. 

Her expression had changed to one of furiosity. Sweat was starting to form on her forehead. She brought her weight too low, again, and kicked forward, high. Arms still crossed, Ranma jumped up over it, sending his legs out sideways in a split.

“Stop dodging!” she yelled as he landed in front of her again. “Take me seriously!”

She attempted another flurry of punches and he dodged again, jumping up and flipping forward over her head. 

It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” she demanded, pivoting in place on one foot. “I thought you wanted to fight.”

He dropped his arms. Placed his hands behind his head. Turned his nose up. He knew what he had to say now, and then he would know for sure.

“You know, you should really watch that violent temper of yours if you ever wanna find a boyfriend.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, guys don’t like it. Macho chicks like you are really—” He took a deep breath. “Uncute.”

“What did you say?!” She rushed forward, spinning into a high roundhouse kick. He backflipped over it, taking in the expression on her face as he was right above her. They locked eyes and she shouted again. 

“ _Ranma, you jerk!_ ”

He landed on his feet, his back to her. He held onto his belt, staring at the ground in shock. His entire body started shaking. Everything rushed together all at once. He didn’t know how, but—

“It’s you, isn’t it?” he said, voice soft. “Akane.”

It took all the strength he possessed to turn around. 

And there, the girl he had been fighting, was different. Shorter. Thinner. Less developed. The laugh lines gone from her face. Her hair, instead of long and brown, now short and raven black. But her brown eyes were shining, and she was smiling.

“Took you long enough,” she said. “Ranma.”

“How—”

He took one aching step forward. Reaching for her. Arms outstretched. Hands trembling.

“How—” he repeated.

“Ranma,” was all she said. In her voice. Akane’s voice.

He willed himself to move. He wanted to touch her, just to make sure. When he stopped, his fingertips were just inches from her face. Still shaking, he fell to his knees.

“I don’t—” He tried to breathe. It felt impossible. 

She knelt down in front of him. Smiling. 

Akane’s smile.

“How is this possible?”

He had finally managed to complete a sentence. Achingly, he reached up, finally touched her face. Ran his thumb over her cheekbone. Her skin was smooth and warm. Alive. It wasn’t possible. She had died in his arms. He had held her. Felt her go. They had burned her body to ashes.

But here she was, in front of him. Looking healthy. Eighteen. Alive.

“Ranma,” she said, placing her hands over his as they cupped her face. “Let’s have a cup of tea, and I’ll tell you my story.”


	8. The Story

Akane died when she was eighteen years old.

Her spirit passed out of her body, and through Ranma. Maybe that was what did it. She didn’t pass on. Her spirit was there, in her bedroom, watching Ranma clutch her body and scream her name. Watching as her family tried to pull him away, and him only relinquishing his grip when Kasumi placed one gentle hand on him.

She tried to scream. Tell them she was right there! She could see them, hear them. She could feel the carpet under her feet. But no matter how loud she willed her voice to be, they never heard her. 

There was always a light behind her back. She never turned around to face it.

She watched her family mourn. Watched her own wake, friends and neighbors and people she had once considered enemies, file into her house, offering prayers and condolences. Watched as they burned her body, turning it into ashes. Saw her father place a picture of her on the altar next to the picture of her mother. 

Watched as Ranma left, his mother begging him not too. Became infuriated. He had promised to take care of her family. But she softened, as he did come back. Attended Nabiki’s graduation, Kasumi’s wedding. Brought presents to the births of each of her three children. Tried to encourage her father to open the dojo, take on students again. He was trying to take care of them, he just didn’t know how. How could Akane blame him? She wouldn’t have known what to do either.

It was Ranma’s pain, Ranma’s grief, that kept her anchored to the earth. But she wasn’t like a ghost from a movie. She couldn’t affect anything. Couldn’t mysteriously tip over objects, or slam doors, or cause the lights to flicker. She couldn’t appear in his dreams, or deliver dire warnings. All she could do was watch. 

When he attended Ryoga’s wedding, things nearly changed. Ranma danced, laughed. Read a speech about his oldest and dearest friend. Akane felt the chains of the anchor break, and she was able to turn to the light. But she hesitated before walking towards it. And then she heard Ranma, crying himself to sleep that night, and she turned back around.

She made the choice to stay. 

Continued watching as Ranma grew tired. Tired of grieving. Tired of fighting. Settling into being numb. And all she could do was watch.

And then one day, everything changed.

The God of Death appeared before her, an old man with kind eyes.

“Child,” he said. “Don’t you think it’s time to go? To live your next life?”

Akane looked up at him. “How can I go? Alone? Without Ranma?”

“He will be here with you soon enough.”

“How long is soon enough?”

The God of Death hesitated. “In mortal terms? A mere sixty or seventy years.”

Akane frowned. “That’s a long time, actually.”

He blinked. “Is it?”

Akane felt a very human frustration. Her spirit was suddenly very solid. “Yes!”

“Oh, I see.”

She turned to look at Ranma, even though he couldn’t see her. “I can’t leave him alone. Not for all that time.”

The God of Death considered her. “All right. I’ll give you a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

“Yes. You fought many battles in your mortal life, did you not? I will give you one year to train, and if you defeat me, I will give you a second chance.”

Akane bit her lip. She could feel the pressure of it. Her spirit wasn’t just a spirit after all, was it? She had a body, it just existed here, on a different plane. She could train, then. Grow stronger. And if it meant being with Ranma, touching him, having him hear her, she could do it. 

“All right.”

She was given access, then, to other parts of the afterlife. It was huge, and divided, and she had to fill out a lot of paperwork.

* * *

“Paperwork?” asked Ranma.

“Oh yes,” she replied. “The whole afterlife is just one big bureaucracy.”

* * *

She sparred against demons, angels. Yokai and akuma. Kitsune and kappa. Fairies and dragons and banshees. And after a year, she faced her challenge with the God of Death.

And she won. Somehow. Perhaps he let her.

And then there was more paperwork. She was to return, given a new life, but not hers. Her name would be Kozue Sugishima. She would be the orphan of very rich parents. A girl who went to college in America and found work there, but was still achingly lonely. And then returned to Japan, to home, but found herself achingly lonely there as well. She was set up with a house, a job. Anything she could have needed. 

And another set of memories. The memories of Kozue, her childhood. The death of her parents. The friends she made in college that she drifted away from. 

Before Akane stepped through the door, the one that left the office of the afterlife and led to earth, she paused, staring up at the God of Death. 

“Is Kozue—am I killing her? Am I taking her place?”

“No,” he replied. “She does not exist yet, until you walk through that door. And once you do, you will be her. And you will be you.”

“Two memories,” she whispered to herself. “Two mes.”

She was told she could only reveal herself to three people. Only three people she could tell that she was Akane. And only after they figured it out. Only after they addressed her by name. 

“Will I be punished if I tell more people? Or tell them before they figure it out?”

“Punishment doesn’t factor in. You will simply be unable to tell them, that’s all.”

“I see.”

She wondered then, about something else.

“Is this some sort of trick? Will our lives be ironically cut short or something? Or Ranma dies instead of me?”

The God of Death laughed then, a surprisingly comforting sound. “No, child. I am not some trickster spirit. You will live a happy mortal life, along with him if you choose, for many decades.”

She took a deep breath, although her spirit didn’t need to breathe. “Thank you, then. For this chance.”

“You fought for it,” he replied, nodding. “Now go, make the most of it.”

One more breath.

Then she walked through the door.


	9. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains explicit sexual content, lol

Ranma stared at her—Akane!—as they sat together on the same side of the kitchen island, their mugs of tea untouched. He had just watched her as she told her story, amazed at the way her face moved, the way her voice rose and fell. And how she smiled. The smile that had kept him going, through everything. 

“I’m sorry,” he said at long last.

She tilted her head to the side. “For what?”

P-chan laid curled around the bottom of the stool, not having noticed any difference.

“It was because of me,” Ranma said. “That you couldn’t move on.”

“Oh, well, maybe at first,” she said softly. “But I told you, at one point, I made the choice to stay. I made the choice to fight. To come back. If anything, I’m sorry.”

He let out a guffaw of disbelief. “For what?”

“For having to lie to you. To trick you. Manipulating you.”

“I—I mean—it’s all right.” It was, wasn’t it? 

“I thought you would figure it out sooner,” she said, sighing and finally taking a sip of tea. “I thought naming my dog P-chan would be a dead giveaway.”

Ranma laughed, his whole body shaking. “It should have been.”

“What did make you figure it out?”

“The carnations. In the library.”

She smiled. “It was the first decoration I put up. But afterwards, I found myself not wanting to do any more.”

“They were always your mother’s favorite.”

“You remembered.”

“Of course. And then I heard you playing outside with P-chan—’Honestly!’ And it all came together. The book. Your inability to cook. Your klutziness, your stubbornness, how you had been to Jusenkyo once and not been cursed. It was either you, Akane, or some absolutely insane stalker.”

She laughed. He hadn’t heard that laugh in so long. His heart thundered in his chest. 

“I was worried,” she said. “Until the other day, when you said you were still in love with me. I thought maybe you had fallen in love with Kozue.”

His face fell. “But I did.”

Her smile disappeared. “What?”

“I did fall in love with Kozue,” he whispered. “But she’s you, isn’t she?”

“I—” Akane blinked, looked to the side, looking for something that wasn’t there. “She is. But she’s someone else. Other memories. Another life. Longer than Akane’s!”

“It felt like you.”

“Ranma.” She stood up, stepped over P-chan. Put her hands on his chest. Looked up at him with tearful eyes. “You see Akane right now, right?”

“Yes,” he whispered again.

“Everyone else will see Kozue. I only appear like this to you. But if you would like—” She grew. Her body thickened. Her hair changed color and length. “I can look like this.”

“I want—” He was unsure, but only for a second. “I want to see Akane.”

And there she was again. “Okay.”

She was touching him. Her face was so close. He grabbed her shoulders. Pushed her away.

“Wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

He released his grip. “I thought about it a lot, if this happened. Well, not this exact situation. But time travel, or something. I don’t know. It was only a dream. But I thought, if I had another chance, the very first thing I would do is—”

“Yes?”

“Ask you on a date.”

She grinned in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

"Tonight? Dinner?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "A nice fancy restaurant."

"You can afford that?"

"You've been paying me while I live and eat for free. I've got money."

She giggled, cupping her tea with both hands. "It took me a while to adjust to being rich, in this life. I just wanted to give all that money away."

"If you're so rich, why do you still work? I wouldn't."

"It makes me feel useful. Fulfilled. The fact that I ended up working for Nabiki just seemed to be one of the God of Death's little jokes."

Ranma smiled. "I would like to hear more about it, over dinner."

"Oh! Right!" She set her tea down and spun around. "I should go get ready!"

He simply watched her as she ran past him to the stairs.

"Pick out a good place, okay?" she called behind her.

"I will," he yelled up after her.

P-chan woke up and yawned, moving over to the couch. He jumped up, pawed at the cushions, and then fell back asleep.

Ranma sat on the stool in the now quiet kitchen for a moment, trying to process everything he had just learned. The impossible had happened. Akane was here, alive again. She had fought her way back from death, just for him.

He felt guilty. Happy. Shocked. Overwhelmed. But it was real, wasn't it? And now they were going on a date. 

He looked around the room.

"What am I doing?" he said to himself.

He ran, up the stairs, sliding barefoot to the end of the hallway. Knocked on the door to her room.

Akane answered, dressed in a bathrobe. One hand on the doorknob, the other stretched to the door frame.

"Ranma?"

He kissed her. Grabbed her around the middle, his arms crossing her back completely. Lifting her up off her feet. Tears fell from his closed eyes as their lips pressed together furiously. She, so lightly, placed her arms on top of his, running her hands up his biceps, to his neck, to his hair. She buried her fingers in it, tugging with her fists, trying to pull him even closer, although that would have been impossible.

He loved her, he loved her, oh god, how he loved her. He had loved her since they were kids. He loved her after all this time. He would love her for the next sixty or seventy years. He would love her after they died, her for the second time. And in the next life, he would find her, and love her again. 

It was forever before they parted, needing to breathe. He still held her up, their lips just barely touching, as they took deep breaths, staring into each other's eyes.

"Akane," he whispered. "Akane, Akane, Akane."

"It's me," she whispered. "I'm here."

Slowly, he set her down. She stayed in his arms, pressed against his chest.

"The other thing I promised myself I would do," he said, pulling back slightly and resting his hands on her hips. "Is kiss you whenever I could."

"Ranma," she said softly, looking up at him, her eyes shining. She smiled. Touched his face. "You really need to shave before our date."

He laughed. "Okay."

He bent down, kissed her one more time. Firm. 

She smiled as he pulled away, his hands sliding down her forearms, letting his fingers rest in her palms. 

"Seriously," she said. "It's itchy."

"Okay, okay."

He left her, keeping eye contact for as long as he could before she closed the door. Went to his room. Showered. Shaved.

He put more effort into shaving than he usually did. Trying to make his skin as smooth as possible. Running the razor over and over the same spots. It made his skin feel a little raw, but when he finished, it was an improvement to his look.

He dug in the boxes he had never fully unpacked. He didn't have a suit, or hadn't in years and years anyway. But he did own a decent button up dress shirt, and a pair of slacks. Luckily they weren't too wrinkled, but they did smell a little musty. There was some fabric refresher down in the laundry room that he sprayed vigorously, hoping it would suffice for the time being.

He changed in the laundry room, leaving his old clothes on top of the washer. As he exited, he nearly bumped into Akane, who was already at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh! Ranma!"

She was smiling. Wearing a dress. It was pretty, but didn't seem to fit her right. Of course, the dress was Kozue's. Meant for her body. And he saw Akane. But they were the same. Thinking about it too much made his head spin. So he focused on her face, which was definitely Akane.

"Hey." He gestured down at his outfit. "I hope this is okay."

"You look great." She touched his cheek. "So smooth."

He grinned. Reached up, took her hand. Held it against his face.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered.

* * *

It was cold outside, but the sky was clear. Akane wore an aquamarine colored peacoat over her dress, a gray hat, matching gloves. He put on his winter coat, boots. P-chan whined at the door as they left. Ranma bent down and gave the dog a hearty hug, which seemed to soothe him. 

They ate dinner at a fancy steakhouse. Even though it was pricey, Ranma managed to critique the cooking techniques, insisting he knew better. Akane teased him in a way that felt so familiar. They talked about Pride and Prejudice. Ranma finally understood why it was her favorite, after all this time. They talked about her job, about Nabiki. How it was hard to interact with her. How she desperately missed her sister.

Then she told him about Kozue’s life. Her parents had died when she was little, but they had been very rich. Left her with her even more rich grandfather, who died right before she went to college. In America, where she made friends, but the pain of her family’s death still haunted her. And her family had all been martial artists, although not as dedicated as the Tendo family, or the Saotomes. A different, easier style. 

So even though she had trained her spirit in death, the body she came back to was not nearly as good. She needed to learn again. And she had really wanted Ranma as a teacher. 

“You never wanted me to teach you before,” he said, cutting a piece off of his steak. 

“I did so!” she insisted. “You just never listened. Or you would insult me if I tried to ask.”

He paused, mid-chew. “I was a real asshole, huh?”

She shrugged. “Well, so was I.”

They continued. She had seen most of what he had done since he was a teenager, but the one year when she was training was a mystery to her. He told her she hadn’t missed much. Tossed a couple of aggressive drunkards out of the bar. Visited his family, her family. So she asked for stories of when he was on the road, even though she had been there, watching. She wanted to hear. 

So he told her. 

And when they left the restaurant, they walked hand in hand along the dark street. She leaned her head against his shoulder. It was a miracle. He was living a miracle. It was precious and fragile, but real. He kept biting down on the inside of his cheek just to feel a little bit of pain, make sure it wasn’t a dream. 

And then they were home. He let her put the code into the keypad once they were in the house, holding her arms as she took off her shoes. And then he picked her up, and she let out a whoop of surprise, and he carried her upstairs to bed, leaving a melodramatic P-chan on the other side of the closed door. 

Ranma and Akane kissed as he lowered her to the bed. She sank back against the pillows and he positioned himself on top of her. She opened her mouth and he pushed his tongue forward, slightly, meeting the tip of her own tongue. They parted for a short breath, their mouths open, before meeting again, his tongue moving deeper inside. 

Once again, they broke apart. 

“Ranma—I haven’t even taken off my coat—”

He hadn’t removed his either, so they did so, awkwardly, giggling, throwing them to the ground. And then he was on top of her again, kissing her lips, running his hand up the side of her hip. Along her waist. Tilted her a bit to the side, reaching for the zipper of her dress. Moved his lips down along her neck. How had he never noticed that she smelled the same? 

What an idiot.

His body was on fire. He had wanted her, always wanted her. And he had denied himself, right from the very beginning. Fool. Moron. Stupid. 

“Akane—wait—”

“What is it?”

He was holding her, lying partially on his side, his hand slipped into the back of her now open dress. 

“I’ve never—actually—done this.”

He felt pathetic, then. A thirty-year old virgin. He had never even kissed anyone else since he had been an adult. The anxiety of inexperience weighed on him. What if he wasn’t good at it? Or what if he went too far, hurt her in his eagerness? The thought was unbearable. 

“Me neither,” she whispered, touching his face. 

“Not even—as Kozue—she didn’t—you didn’t?”

“No,” Akane whispered. “Kozue was very shy. Terrified of men.”

“Are you? Scared?”

“Hardly,” she sniffed. “But they sure can be annoying sometimes.”

He laughed, hugged her. Smelled her hair. “Akane, I love you.”

She wrapped her arms around his back. Squeezed him tightly. “I love you too.”

“I’m sorry I never told you.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“I’ll tell you every day, I swear it.”

“I believe you.”

He started pulling her dress down, laying kisses on her shoulder. Soon she was left in her bra and panties, and he was still fully dressed. She helped him unbutton his shirt, take off his pants. And their lips connected again, both only in their underwear. 

He was hard. Especially as she moved her soft body against him. Only a few thin pieces of fabric keeping all their skin from touching. He slid his hands behind her back and unhooked her bra. He pushed her onto her back again, pulling her bra down her arms and off her body completely. She was topless, and blushing slightly, as he rose up, bracing his weight on his forearms. Tenderly, he took one of her breasts in his hands, and she gasped. It felt bigger than it looked, which he found confusing, but oddly arousing at the same time. 

He took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Applied a tiny bit of pressure. She moaned, curving her spine upwards into him. He lowered his head. Kissed her breast. Took her nipple in his mouth. Played with it with his tongue. 

She was going crazy already, panting, burying her fingers in her hair, encouraging him to take more and more of her breast in his mouth. 

He moved his hand down to her panties. Grabbed the waistband. Pulled them down. She aided him, lifting up her ass and kicking them off her legs. He reached around and grabbed her rear end, squeezing, digging his fingers in as he continued sucking on her nipple. 

“Aah!”

It was a scream of pleasure. He lifted his head, finally, returning his attentions to her mouth, kissing her again. She moaned into his mouth as their tongues touched again, and he raised his head once more, breathing heavily.

“Ranma—”   


She went to touch his face, but he grabbed her wrists, both of them, easily in one hand, pinning her hands above her head to the bed. Kissed her again, running his tongue along her bottom lip, moving to her neck, licking the hollow of her throat. She was whimpering and wiggling in his grasp, and the fact that she was completely naked wasn't lost on him. If anything, he had to use every ounce of his patience to not take her completely without any more preparation. 

Instead, he released her wrists. Slid his hands down her body, relishing in the lustful noises she was making. Past the hair of her pubic mound, putting his fingers between her legs. She opened up to him readily, and she was deliciously wet. And slick, too. His fingers slid inside of her easily, first one, then two, then three. He used his thumb to prod at her clitoris, knowing from experience with his own alternate body the exact right way to touch. 

With one hand she dug her nails into his back, a not unpleasant sort of pain. With her other hand she clutched at the blankets beneath her as she arched her back and her moans increased. 

“Please, oh please, Ranma, I need you—”

He was out of his boxers in an instant. Had his cock in his hand, pushing into her, slowly at first, gently, then all at once driving himself in as far as he could go. Felt her clamp down around him, watched her head roll back and her eyes shut. For so many years, he had dreamed of this moment. It should have happened long ago. She should have been his wife. 

He started pumping his hips, running on instinct and desire. She felt like silk around him, but so, so, so warm. They held onto each other. She raised her hips, lifted her legs, wrapped them around his back to pull him deeper inside.

“Harder,” she panted. “Harder.”

He obliged. Let all of his energy overtake him. Let it take her. 

She threw her arms around his neck. Pulled him down. Kissed him. 

And came.

Shuddering around him, her muscles twitching and spasming uncontrollably. 

She released him, letting her arms fall as he slowly stopped moving his hips. Breathing hard, sweating, her eyes closed as her head fell to the side.

He smiled. Felt proud of himself for outlasting her. 

“Ranma, that was—”

“I’m not finished.”

He pulled out of her. Grabbed her waist, flipped her over. Took her hips, lifted them up as he entered her from behind. She moaned and tried to hold herself up, but gave up and let the top half of her body fall forward, her head turned to the side against a pillow. He pounded into her, deep and fast. He let his gaze travel along her spine, to the nape of her neck. Her flushed face, eyes closed. He had always wanted to take her like this. Prove he was a man, as stupid as that was. And it felt damn good, too. 

Akane definitely seemed to be enjoying it. She clutched at the blankets, groaned and screamed his name over and over again. Begged him for more. She threw herself back against him, meeting his thrusts. It wasn’t long before she came again, and he let himself come with her, pushing himself as deep inside her as possible, letting everything spill out. 

She fell flat on her stomach, sliding off of him as he softened. Panting, he lowered himself to sit beside her on the bed. Sliding down so that they were face to face.

She was blushing, deeply. 

He reached out, stroked her hair, pushed it away from her face. 

“How was it?”

“Good. Good. Oh, it was great.” She moved closer to him, snuggling into his chest. Ranma raised an arm, wrapped it around her. Kissed the top of her head. They held each other for a long time.

His heart was open again. That terrified him the most. If your heart is open, it’s exposed. And that meant it could be cut into, torn apart. For so long, he had taken things day by day. Now there was a glimpse, a possibility of a future he had never planned for. He felt Akane breathing against his skin. He calmed himself. He could still take it day by day, for now. Akane was here, Akane was alive. He had an opportunity that no one had ever had, at least that he knew of.

His thoughts wandered, then. How often did the God of Death grant a second chance? How many other formerly dead people were walking around with someone else’s face? What would happen as they grew older? Would she look eighteen forever? 

“Ranma.” 

Her soft voice broke his chain of thought.

“Yes, Akane?”

“You wanna go another round?”

She was smiling, teasing. But also, yes. He was ready for another round. 

They went several more rounds, finally ending up in the shower, him lifting her up and fucking her against the wall. And afterwards, clean and exhausted, they fell asleep in the bed, together. Happy. At peace.


	10. Birthday

The scratching at the door would not stop.

Ranma kept his eyes shut tight, tried to ignore it. But the sun was coming through the window, a shaft of light poking through the curtains, landing right on his face. He groaned and surrendered to being awake. 

Akane was still sleeping blissfully in his arms. She had always been a stupidly heavily sleeper. He wanted to stay next to her forever, but the scratching was getting louder. Ranma slowly slid out from underneath her and got to his feet, walking over to the door. As soon as he opened it, P-chan ran inside the room and jumped on top of the bed, barking loudly. 

This did cause Akane to wake up, surprised, only one eye open. She sat up in bed and looked at the dog sleepily. “Mm, good morning P-chan. Did we lock you out all night? I’m sorry.”

The dog whined as if he understood, and shoved his head against her chest. 

Ranma frowned and crossed his arms. “Are you sure he’s just a dog?”

“I’m sure, Ranma. He’s had lots of baths,” Akane said, as P-chan continued pressing his body up against her, wagging his tail. “That reminds me, I am kind of pissed still that you never told me about Ryoga.”

“Oh, well. That.” Ranma looked up at the ceiling, scratched his cheek awkwardly. “That was a whole, you know, thing. You know how it is.”

“Hmm.” But she was smiling. “Anyway, come back to bed.”

She patted the mattress next to her, petting P-chan with her other hand. 

“I would. I would stay in bed with you all day, if I could.”

“And why can’t you?”

“It’s just I sort of forgot something.”

“Oh? What?”

“Kenshi,” said Ranma. “Kasumi’s youngest. It’s his birthday today. She invited me to the party.”

“Oh,” said Akane in a tiny voice. “Oh, right. Of course.” 

Ranma sat on the edge of the bed. “I can skip it. Stay home.”

“No, no. You should—you should go.” Her face was tight, and she wasn’t looking at him.

“Do you want to come with me?”

“Oh, I—it wouldn’t be—it would be awkward. Not appropriate.”

“I can just tell them you’re my girlfriend.”

“Well, I am your girlfriend, aren’t I?” She was smiling again.

“Yes,” he agreed readily. “Although are we still fiancees?”

“If you want to be.” 

They looked at each other in the morning light. 

“I want to be.”

“Good.”

“So then you’ll come to the party?”

Her smile faded once more. “No. Not this time. I can’t just show up. It would be rude. You go.”

“All right. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll tell them about you.”

She lowered her eyebrows in concern. “You can’t. You won’t be able to.”

“Not that you’re Akane. Just that I have a girlfriend, and she’s really cool.”

She laughed, and P-chan attempted to roll over in her lap. “That I’m really cool?”

“Well, you are.”

“Okay,” she said. “Sounds good to me.”

* * *

They ate breakfast together. Ranma made them both omelets. P-chan finally got to eat his breakfast too, with Ranma sneaking him bacon when Akane wasn’t looking. She wore nothing but her robe as they spent the morning together, cuddling on the couch and not paying attention to the television. It nearly killed him when he had to let her go around lunchtime, to get dressed, and leave. 

He tucked Kenshi’s present under one arm. Luckily he had picked it up a few days ago, instead of procrastinating to the last second like he usually did. He knew Kasumi was purchasing him a Wii as his big gift, so Ranma had said he would pick up the new Zelda game for it, which Kasumi thanked him for.

The party was being held at the dojo, since it had more room than their living space above and behind the clinic. When Ranma arrived, there seemed to be dozens of children running around, screaming at the top of their lungs. And of course Kasumi was right there, in the front yard, looking as calm and pleasant as always.

“Ranma-kun!” She said upon seeing him. As he walked up, she met him and gave him a hug when they reached each other. 

“Kasumi,” he said, returning the greeting. 

She pulled away as two boys ran behind her, shooting each other with silly string. 

“It’s so wonderful to see you. You look nice.”

“Thanks.” He grinned. He had shaved again. He held out the small wrapped present to her. “Here. What we talked about.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said as she took it from him. “Now please, come in.”

She led him inside, to the familiar place he used to call home. There seemed to be even more children in here, as if they were spawning from the walls. They headed into the living room where his father was sitting across from Soun, playing shogi. They each had a random child on their shoulders, and the children were attempting to bash each other with plastic swords. 

“Ranma! You made it!”

Soun smiled up at him. Ranma returned the expression, but both men mirrored each other’s sadness behind it. 

“Hey, how are you doing?”

“Just fine, just fine, if your father would stop cheating.” Soun’s pleasantries turned into a grumble. 

“You would accuse me, your oldest friend, of cheating, on this, the day commemorating your youngest grandson’s birth?” Genma said, maintaining his balance as the child on his shoulders swung their sword around violently. 

“Yes,” Soun and Ranma replied in unison. 

“Uncle Ranma!”

A tiny ball of hyper hair slammed into his stomach and began to crawl up his chest.

“Kenshi!” Ranma laughed, grabbing the kid and turning him upside down. “There’s the birthday boy!”

“Did you bring me a present?” Kenshi asked, swinging by his ankles. 

“I did, I gave it to your mother.”

“Okay! Do you want cake?”

“It’s not time for cake yet,” Nodoka said, exiting the kitchen, wiping her hands with a towel. “Ranma. Good to see you.”

“You too, Mom.” Ranma set Kenshi back down and the child ran off to play with his friends. 

“You look—” She hesitated, surprised. “Good. Really good. Did you get a new coat?”

“I did,” he said, realizing he hadn’t taken it off yet. “Do you like it?”

“I do. But—” She frowned. Bit her lip. “Where did you get the money?"

“I told you, Mom, I have a job.”

“Oh, the private chef thing still?”

“Private chef?” asked Kasumi, bringing out a bowl of chips and setting them on the table. “Are you really?”

“Yeah,” said Ranma. “Pays pretty good.”

“What pays pretty good?” Nabiki asked. She had entered when no one was looking. Even her casual clothes looked sharp and put together. 

“Ranma’s a private chef,” Genma said, moving his shogi piece as the child on top of him was struck by their opponent and began to cry.

“Oh really?” asked Nabiki. “Don’t you have to go to school or something for that?”

“Sometimes being self-taught is good enough,” Ranma replied. 

“Well, I know you’ve always thought so.”

Nabiki always irritated the shit out of him. He never wanted to fight with her. Tried to be nice. But she had gotten more and more condescending over the years. He took a deep breath. Akane would want them to get along, even though she used to argue with Nabiki more than anyone. 

“But you look—” Nodoka touched his face. “Better than good. Happy.”

He smiled back at her with soft eyes. “I am happy.”

“Ranma,” Kasumi said suddenly. “Do you—do you have a girlfriend?”

The entire room looked up at him. He looked back. Everyone he considered family was right here. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

“Oh, Ranma.” Kasumi smiled, her eyes filling with tears. “That’s so wonderful.”

She pushed past his mother to hug him. Surprised, he hugged her back.

“Is it?” he heard Nabiki mumble under her breath.

“That is great,” Nodoka said, grabbing him by the arm once Kasumi had released him. “I thought I’d never see you get married.”

“Well, you’re jumping the gun just a little,” Ranma said with a laugh. 

“I’ll say,” came another grumble from Nabiki. 

Ranma lowered himself to his knees, so he could look Soun in the eye. 

“Is that okay?” he asked.

Soun looked back at him. There was so much gray in his mustache now. His hair nearly completely silver. His eyes were sad, but he smiled at Ranma warmly. 

“Of course it is,” Soun said. “You’ve mourned long enough.”

Ranma nodded, tears filling his eyes. He wanted to scream at them that it was Akane! Akane was alive! She was real and she was here and he loved her! 

But he couldn’t. Akane was right. He just couldn’t. 

“So what is she like?” Kasumi asked, as she and the other women sat down at the table. Ranma turned around to face them as they all stared at him with curiosity.

“She’s great,” Ranma said. “Smart. Kind. Actually, you know her, Nabiki. She works for you.”

Nabiki raised one eyebrow. “Oh? What’s her name?”

Akane Tendo. “Kozue Sugishima.”

“Sugishima?” Nabiki blinked. “Yes, I do know her. Hard worker. A little weird.”

“What do you mean?” asked Nodoka.

“She called me ‘oneechan’ at work once,” Nabiki replied. Ranma tried to stifle a giggle. “When I told her off for how unprofessional that was, she nearly cried.”

“Yes,” said Ranma. “She—feels things deeply.”

“I suppose,” Nabiki replied, pursing her lips. 

“But like you said, hard worker!” Ranma grinned, pointing one finger in the air. “After all, you just gave her a promotion, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Nabiki said, but her tone was still skeptical. “How did you two meet?”

“Ah, well—” Ranma rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a nervous laugh. “She’s actually the one who hired me as a private chef.”

Nabiki looked shocked. “I pay one of my employees enough to have a private chef?”

“She has money, from her parents.”

“Then why does she work for me? I’m a terrible boss.”   


“Nabiki, I’m sure that’s not true,” said Kasumi. 

“It is,” her sister said. “I wouldn’t work for me.”

“Well, she likes it there,” said Ranma.

“What else?” asked Nodoka. “Tell us more about her.”

“Oh. Well—”

The two children on Soun’s and Genma’s shoulders finally toppled off, hitting the floor. They began to scream loudly in unison and Kasumi attempted to comfort them as they each blamed the other loudly. And then everyone was distracted as more guests arrived, until it seemed the whole house was just a thriving mass of very sticky children. 

Eventually they did eat cake, and opened presents. Kenshi screamed his tiny lungs out when he opened the Wii, and hugged Ranma again when he opened the game. Kasumi had raised boisterous, but friendly children. Her oldest daughter, Mirai, was nine years old and desperately wanted to learn martial arts, and when she finally was able to make her way over to Ranma, she kicked him in the back of the neck.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” He yelled.

The little girl’s expression instantly changed. Her eyes teared up, the effect increased by her thick glasses. “I’m sorry, Uncle Ranma, I just wanted t—t—to pl—pl—play with you!”

She hunched over and started wailing, her tears spewing like a fountain.

“Aw, geez, kid, I’m sorry—”

Ranma bent over, reaching out a hand to comfort her. 

“An opening!”

She grabbed his wrist, and using the leverage of her short height, was able to throw him over her shoulder so he landed on his back on the living room floor. 

Stunned, Ranma stared up at the ceiling as his father began to laugh loudly. Ranma glared over at him from his position on the floor.

“Did you teach her that?”

Genma shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Maybe.”

And then the whole room was laughing, Ranma included, as he pulled himself back up to his feet. Mirai smirked up at him and he patted her on the head. 

“Not bad, kid.”

He noticed the look in Soun’s eyes as he watched his granddaughter grin triumphantly. Pride. Maybe a little hope. Ranma decided not to push, not yet. 

The party eventually began to wind down. The children faded away, like the tide retreating from the shore. Kenshi wanted to stay at the dojo, so Tofu took him and his brother and sister up to the guest room, the room Ranma used to sleep in, and put them to bed. 

Night fell, and the adults began to say their goodbyes. As they stood in the entryway, his mother gave him another strong hug. 

“I’m so happy you’re doing so well,” she whispered into his ear. 

“Thanks Mom.” He squeezed her once before letting her go.

“Oh, Ranma,” Kasumi said. “I just had a wonderful idea.”

“What’s that?”

“You should bring your girlfriend over for Christmas!”

“Oh, I, uh—” He hesitated. “I dunno.”

“It’ll just be us. Just the family. No big party or anything.”   


“Just the family is kind of a big party,” Ranma said, smiling. 

“Please, Ranma,” Nodoka said. “We’d love to meet her.”

They were all looking expectantly at him again. He turned to Soun.

“Is it all right with you?”

Soun blinked in surprise, but then smiled, and nodded. “Of course, son.”

Ranma turned back to Kasumi. “Okay. I’ll ask her.”

* * *

“Christmas?”

Akane looked at him in panic from her end of the couch. She had wrapped herself in a blanket and was reading when he came home. He had walked through the door, and she had turned, smiled at him, and he felt so warm. Domestic. Cozy. Meant to be. And then Ranma had sat down, lifted her feet, placed them in his lap, and told her about the party, and about Kasumi’s invitation.

“Christmas Eve, really, but yeah. They really want to meet you.”

“That’s so weird,” she said. “It feels so weird. They know me. They want to meet Kozue.”

“You are Kozue.”

“But—I don’t know—”

“I thought you missed your family. And being around them might help them figure out the truth.”

“But I can only tell two more people.” She set her book in her lap. “And I don’t know if it should be both of my sisters, or my dad and just one of my sisters. And if so, which sister? I don’t know.”

“Come to Christmas dinner, then. It will help you figure things out.”

“I feel awful,” she whispered, her eyes watering. “Having to lie to them. And at least one of them I’ll have to lie to forever.”

“Not really,” said Ranma. “If you tell them you’re Kozue, that’s true. You are.”

“But I’m Akane, too. And hiding that is still a lie.”

He rubbed her calf muscles. “I know it’s painful. Still, I think you should come.”

“You really want me there?”

“I want everyone I care about, all in one place.”

“You know,” she said, smiling. “When we were younger, I always wanted you to be honest with your feelings. I thought it would never happen. But here you are, and you’re so mature. I can’t believe it.”

“I don’t want to waste any more time. Not ever again.” He scooted towards her, lifting her more onto his lap. “Speaking of—”

He leaned over to kiss her. Their lips only made the slightest contact when P-chan ran up to the couch, barking his head off. She pulled away and giggled. P-chan jumped up, squeezing his now rather large body in between them, pushing his face against Akane’s.

“Are you _sure_ he’s just a dog?” Ranma grumbled.

“I’m sure, I’m sure!”


	11. A Merry Little Christmas

Akane bought presents for everyone. Another Wii game for Kenshi. A new gi, for Mirai. A microscope for Toya, the studious middle child. Perfume for Nabiki. A sweater for Kasumi. An antique book about acupuncture for Tofu. Chocolates, for Ranma’s mother and father, fancy, imported from Europe. A new shogi board for Soun. 

“Is it too much?” Akane asked Ranma before they left on Christmas Eve. 

“I think they’ll think you’re just trying to make a good impression.”

“I am trying to make a good impression.” She paused, outside of the gates, a little sad. “An impression on my own family.”

“They’ll appreciate it. You know how they are.”

“Mmm.” She nodded, but it was clear she was still unsure. 

He carried the large bag of presents for her, over his shoulder, feeling like Santa. 

“Ranma,” she said, as they fell into step.

He looked down, and she had changed.

“Akane—”

“No,” she said. “I think, tonight, it would be easier if I was just Kozue the whole time.”

He nodded. “All right.”

He didn’t really understand completely how it worked, even now. But she was Kozue, her hair long and pulled back. And he stayed by her side.

As they rounded the last corner, he was both surprised and unsurprised to see his entire family lined up in front of the gates of the house.

Akane—Kozue—froze in place. Her eyes swept over all of them, trying to take in as much as she could. Her father, her sisters. Akane’s father, Akane’s sisters. Akane’s niece and nephews. Her body began to shake. Ranma reached down, took her hand, and they continued forward.

“You didn’t have to all come out here like this,” he said to the group in exasperation. 

“We wanted to see your girlfriend!” Mirai piped up, her mother shushing her. 

“I—” Kozue tried not to burst into tears. She bowed forward at the waist, facing the ground. “It’s so nice to meet all of you!”

“And you too, dear,” Nodoka replied, although she bowed less deeply. 

“Kozue,” Ranma murmured.

She turned her head to the side, looked up at him.

“Stand up.”

“Oh. Right.”

Blushing, she straightened her posture. Faced everyone again.

“So, guys,” Ranma sighed. It felt awkward, introducing her to people she already knew. “This is Kozue. Kozue, these are my parents. Nabiki, you know. Her father, Soun. Her sister, Kasumi. Her husband, Tofu. And their kids, Mirai, Toya, Kenshi.”

Kozue’s gaze lingered on the children for the longest period of time. Her smile was small, happy, sad. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Kenshi ran forward and jumped into Ranma’s arms. Ranma instinctively turned him upside down and held him around the waist.

“Did you bring presents?” The little boy asked eagerly, his hair falling straight down. 

“These are from Kozue,” Ranma replied. “And there’s just one for you. And one for everybody else.”

“Aww,” Kenshi grumbled. 

“You just had a birthday!” Kasumi admonished her son, walking over and taking him out of Ranma’s arms. “Now let’s all go inside, it’s getting cold.”

In they went. More awkward pleasantries. Crowding around the table as Kasumi and Nodoka brought out dinner. And then they opened the presents Kozue had brought. Kenshi screamed upon opening his, and threw himself into Kozue’s arms in gratitude.

“I love you Auntie Kozue!”

She blushed, but returned the child’s eager hug. She looked over at Ranma, and he was blushing too. 

“Now, now,” said Kasumi. “We mustn’t be too excited—”

“That’s all right,” said Kozue. She pulled back from Kenshi, holding him by the arms. Tried not to cry. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Mmm!” He nodded excitedly. Suddenly, his smile faded. “But my Wii is at home.”

“That’s okay,” said Kozue. “I know you can be patient, can’t you?”

“What’s patient mean?”

“It means—” She paused. “It means, sometimes you have to wait a long time for something good to happen. But if you wait, and you are patient, sometimes the thing that happens is even better than if it had happened right away. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” said Kenshi. “The game will be better tomorrow!”

She laughed. “Yes. Let’s say that.”

Ranma smiled, relishing the feeling of his heart beating in his chest. 

Nabiki opened her gift, lifting up the glass bottle and examining it skeptically. “Perfume? You know, this kind is pretty expensive.”

“Do you like it?” Kozue asked eagerly.

“I said it was expensive,” Nabiki replied, shrugging but not smiling. 

Ranma balled up one of his fists, trying to squash the flame of irritation that had ignited within him. Couldn’t she just be grateful? What an idiot she had been, to be working with her sister all this time and not even suspect. Nabiki always thought of herself as the smart one, but now Ranma could see she didn’t understand other people at all. 

“Kozue,” his mother was saying. “Ranma must have told you a lot about us, to get us all such fine gifts.”

“Oh yes.” She smiled and looked down at her lap. “He talks about all of you, all the time. He really loves all of you so much.”

“Really?” Genma asked. “Even me?”

Kozue looked up at him, still smiling. “Yes. Even you.”

Genma laughed and threw one arm around his son’s neck. “I knew you loved your old man after all.”

“Don’t push it, Pop.”

“As I was saying,” Nodoka continued. “He’s told you about us. But he hasn’t told us much about you. Please, tell me about yourself.”

“Oh. Well, you know I work for Na—Tendo-san. And I really enjoy it. I have a dog, a black lab.”

“What’s his name?” Mirai asked excitedly.

Kozue looked across the table at Ranma. He winked. She grinned. 

“P-chan.”

The breath went out of all the adults in the room. 

“Did—did—did you say—” Soun stuttered. “P-chan?”

“Mmm.” She nodded. “‘P’ for ‘puppy.’”

They all seemed to exhale at once. 

“Ah, of course,” Soun sighed softly. 

“Is he still a puppy?” asked Toya, the first thing he had said all night. “If he’s a full grown dog, shouldn’t you call him D-chan?’

Kozue frowned. “Well, I named him when he was a puppy.”

Toya frowned as well. “Nonsensical.”

“Toya-chan,” Kasumi said in a warning tone. “Be polite.”

The boy crossed his arms and looked away. 

“Ah—what else?” asked Nodoka, trying to change the mood. “What do you like to do for fun?”

“I like—well, I like to read.”

“She’s got a whole library,” chimed in Ranma. “She even got me to read Pride and Prejudice.”

“Really?” asked Nabiki, but there was an edge to her voice that indicated she didn’t want an answer.

“That’s wonderful,” Nodoka said, again trying to keep the conversation on track. “Any other hobbies?”

“Well—I’m a martial artist.”

“Really?” Soun spoke, and his tone was eager. 

“She’s pretty good, too,” Ranma said carefully. 

“Ah, I guess Ranma has a type after all,” Nabiki said. “Nerdy tomboys.”

Ranma nearly flew over the table, but somehow, his father was the one to notice, and placed a stern hand on his shoulder. He was also somewhat relieved to see Kozue’s friendly demeanor falter, however slightly. 

Soun was the first one to break the silence. 

“Would you like to see the dojo?”

The other adults looked at him in shock. 

Mirai clenched her fists in front of her and squealed excitedly. “Oh yes! Oh yes, please can we go out to the dojo?”

Kozue, shaking, smiling, nodded. “All right.”

* * *

Soun took a few tries to unlatch and open the dojo door, as it stuck slightly on the rusted, unused tracks. Only Kozue and Mirai had followed him outside. Ranma had stayed in the main house for a reason she would discover later.

"Ah, here we are," Soun said as he finally slid the door open completely. He found the light switch, and the lights flickered a couple times before illuminating fully.

Kozue took a few trembling steps in after him, letting her bare feet soak up the feeling of the cool wooden flooring. Mirai bounced past her, straight into the middle of the room, and did a backflip.

"It's not much," Soun said, as he came to stand next to Kozue.

She stared up at the ceiling. Around at the walls. Straight ahead at the _iroha_ calligraphy. Took a deep breath. It smelled the same, even under all the years of dust.

"It's wonderful," she whispered, trying not to cry. 

"You think so?" Soun said. "I really fell behind on the upkeep."

"It rules, Grandpa!" yelled Mirai, kicking her foot up high. "You should let me train in here!"

"Oh?" Soun smiled. "Maybe I should."

"Auntie Kozue, will you train with me?" Mirai bounced up to her, lifting herself up on the balls of her feet.

"Oh, right now?"

"Yeah!"

"I'm not really dressed for it—"

Soun scratched his chin. "I think I can help."

He walked over to the storage closet. Bent deep inside. Pulled out a cardboard box covered in dust. Brushed it clean with one hand. Opened it. Pulled out a folded bundle of clothes. Held it out to Kozue.

"Here," he said. "It was my daughter's."

Weakly, she reached out. Took from him the pale yellow gi with a red belt.

"I don't know," she whispered, hugging it to her chest. "Is it really okay?"

"She would've wanted someone to get some use out of it."

She smiled. "Maybe so."

He led her back to the main house, showed her the bathroom. She held in her tears. She couldn't, she couldn't. 

Mirai's eager little face flashed through her mind. She changed clothes, trying to steady her breathing. With uneasy footing, she slid open the door and stepped into the hallway

Ranma was emerging from the walkway that led to the living room, looking enraged. He stopped when he saw her, his face growing pale. 

"Kozue," he said, his tone unfamiliar. "What are you wearing?"

"I—he—my—"

"I loaned it to her," Soun said, coming from further down the hallway by the back door. "So she could train. With Mirai."

Ranma looked between Kozue, and where Mirai stood next to her grandfather, beaming.

"Training. With Mirai. Fine." Ranma seemed distracted, already turning away.

Kozue moved to go after him, but Mirai had already grabbed her hand.

"Come on, let's goooooo!"

Reluctantly, she followed the girl out, staring after Ranma's back as long as she could. 

* * *

As Kozue left for the dojo with Mirai and Soun, Ranma shot a look at his father, who seemed to understand the silent request. Ranma grabbed hold of Nabiki and yanked her by her arm into the kitchen while Genma kept the others distracted.

"Ranma! What is your problem?" Nabiki demanded of him as he finally released her arm.

"You! You're my problem! Can't you just be nice to Kozue?"

"I was perfectly polite," Nabiki replied.

"You were rude, and ungrateful, and condescending. Just like always."

"How dare you?" Nabiki narrowed her eyes. Crossed her arms. "You bring some stranger in here to replace my sister, and expect me just to accept it?"

"She's not a stranger. You know her."

"She's my employee," Nabiki said. "Yes, her work is good, but she is strange! Hardly talks to anyone else, unless to argue. Has a giant picture of her dopey dog on her desk. And now she swans in here, buying a bunch of gifts to butter us up, and suddenly Daddy is reopening the dojo? I don't trust it. I don't trust her."

"You should," Ranma said. "I do."

"Oh, I'm sure. Pride and Prejudice, Ranma? Akane tried to get you to read that the entire time she knew you and you never even thought about it. But ditzy little big tits in there decides to keep you as her house boy and suddenly you're a bookworm? Come on!"

"I read one book and you're acting like this? She is nice. She is kind. She cares about me. She cares about you, too."

Nabiki scoffed. "She doesn't even know me."

"I wish I didn't know you."

She smacked him across the face.

Ranma fumed, breathing heavily as he stared down at her. She looked shocked that she had done it, but didn't back down. He took a deep breath and spun on the heel of his foot, marching past the living room, through to the hallway, intending to go to the dojo.

And then saw her, in the hallway.

"Kozue," he said, his tone unfamiliar. "What are you wearing?"

Akane's gi. The first thing he had ever seen her wear. On a different girl. The same girl.

He heard the explanations.

"Training. With Mirai. Fine."

He thought back to the very first day they met. Turned. Walked back through the living room. Grabbed Nabiki again, despite her protests. Pulled her back into the kitchen.

"What is it now? I hope you're not expecting an apology."

"I'm not." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I know you loved your little sister. I loved her too."

Nabiki swallowed. "Of course I loved her. I'm not a monster."

"But I get it. You're pissed at me. Because I was the one she told first. Because I wouldn't let her go. You were mad because it was all your fault we were engaged in the first place."

"My fault?" Nabiki almost laughed.

"Isn't it? If I had been a boy during that first meeting, and rich, it would have been me and you who ended up engaged, wouldn't it?"

She did laugh, then. "Even if that were true, we never would have made it. You and Akane were made for each other."

"I agree."

Nabiki sighed. "Ranma, you're not wrong. Of course I'm mad at you. For all those reasons, sure. But mostly because you left."

He didn't reply. Just stared back at her with empty eyes.

"You left, Ranma, and I—" She tried to swallow her tears, but a few slid down her cheeks anyway. "I didn't just lose a sister. I lost a brother."

"I came back," he said.

"Oh sure," she said. "Every few months when you got sober enough to find your way back here? Barely staying long enough to make small talk? Especially with me. You only stayed at my graduation party for fifteen minutes."

He took a deep breath. "You're right. I'm sorry. It was hard, but that's no excuse. I should have tried harder."

He suddenly summoned up the courage to grab her around her shoulders, pull her to his chest. Leaned his head down. Said softly in her ear, "I love you, Nabiki. You're my sister. Always have been."

She buried her face against him so no one could see her cry, even though no one else was around. "I love you too, you idiot."

He held her for several minutes, let her cry. Pulled back. Looked her in the eyes. "It's okay, if you still wanna be mad at me. But please, please, be kind to Kozue. She is so important."

"All right." Nabiki smiled. Pushed the rest of the tears out of her eyes with her hand. She reached up, touched her little brother's face. "If she got you to shave, she must be pretty all right. I'll give her a chance."

* * *

"Very good, Mirai-chan!" 

Kozue smiled at the young girl as she finished the first proper kata of the Anything Goes School.

"Really?"

"Really! But do me a favor, go into your ready stance again."

Mirai nodded, a stern expression crossing her face. Spread her feet apart. Lifted her hands defensively.

"Ah, now see there," Kozue said, kneeling down. "You're like me. You wanna start too wide. It's gonna stunt your momentum, and you won't be able to follow through on your punch with all the power you could have."

"Huh." Mirai brought her feet in. Yelled as she threw one punch forward. "Wow, you're right!"

Kozue beamed. "Your Uncle Ranma taught me that. Just last week. If I had learned that at your age, I'd probably be as good as he is now."

"You think I can be as good as Uncle Ranma one day?"

"Better," said a male voice.

The girls looked up at Ranma, leaning casually in the doorway of the dojo. He grinned and walked towards them.

"Ranma-kun," said Soun from where he was sitting near the wall. "Have you come to join us?"

Ranma laughed and waved his hands. "No, I came to tell you that Mom made hot chocolate for everybody."

"Yessss!" Mirai shouted and ran out of the door.

Ranma turned to Kozue with a smile. "She's a spitfire, don't you think?"

"Oh yes," she replied. 

"And she's very good," added Soun, climbing to his feet with a groan. "And so is Kozue."

"Thank you," she said softly.

Soun let out a deep breath and looked around the dojo. "It was nice to see this place being used for martial arts again. Brings back good memories."

There were tears in his eyes that weren't falling.

Kozue stepped forward. Took Soun's hands in hers.

"Thank you, Tendo-san. Truly. I feel honored you let me train with your granddaughter in this place."

Soun looked down at her. His smile was sad, but grateful. "Of course. It just felt right."

"Come on guys," Ranma said in a gentle voice. "That hot chocolate is gonna stop being hot soon.”

Soun watched as Kozue turned, left the dojo, arm in arm with Ranma. For just a second, he thought he saw—

No. Must have been a trick of the light. 

* * *

The family sat around the living room, drinking cocoa. Talking and singing songs. An old Christmas movie started playing on television. Eventually the kids started to fall asleep. Kenshi in his mother's lap. Toya, on his stomach, under the kotatsu. Mirai, leaning on Kozue's shoulder.

Tofu, Nodoka, and Genma carefully lifted one child each to carry them up to the guest room. Nabiki yawned and said she was also going to turn in, sleeping in her old bedroom. Kasumi got up to gather the mugs and take them to the kitchen.

"Oh, let me help you!" Kozue stood up, and began helping with the chore. She had changed back into her normal clothes after leaving the dojo, carefully laying the folded gi on top of the washing machine.

"You don't have to," Kasumi said. "You're a guest."

"Ah, let her," said Ranma, reclining onto his side. "She's trying to make a good impression."

Kozue stuck her tongue out at him. "You just don't want to help."

"Bingo."

Kozue and Kasumi shared a laugh as they brought the mugs into the kitchen.

"Oh, there's still all the dishes from dinner," Kozue said, noticing the sink was full.

"Yes," said Kasumi. "I was hoping I could get them done tonight."

Kozue smiled. "I'll help."

The two women worked side by side, Kasumi washing, Kozue drying. Kozue started humming softly to herself, an old lullaby she knew from childhood.

"Kozue-san?"

Kozue nearly dropped the plate she was holding at the sound of her name.

"Yes?"

"Forgive me for being nosy, but—" Kasumi put the last wet dish in the drying rack, where a few items were left. "May I ask how old you are?"

She gave her Kozue's age. "Twenty-eight."

"And never married?"

"Ah—no," Kozue laughed nervously. "Not yet."

"Not yet?" Kasumi raised her eyebrows. "Do you intend to marry Ranma?"

"I—that is, we—I mean—" Kozue blushed. Bent down. Put a mixing bowl away in a cabinet under the counter. Stood up. Avoided eye contact. "Maybe."

"I see," said Kasumi. "The two of you haven't been together long, have you?"

Kozue smiled. "That sort of depends."

"Oh? On what?"

"On what you mean by 'together.'"

"I don't understand."

"It's just—" Kozue sighed. "Complicated."

"Perhaps I have pried too much. I apologize, again. I suppose nosiness runs in the family."

Kozue smiled at the memories from when she was a teenager. Of Kasumi, no matter how calm and good natured she could be, always being an active participant in the rest of the family's eavesdropping endeavors.

"It's all right," said Kozue. "I don't mind."

* * *

"Just you, Mom?"

Nodoka entered the living room and took a seat next to her son at the kotatsu.

"Mmm," Nodoka replied. "The kids woke up right as we put them down and wouldn't go back to sleep unless it could be with Grandpa Panda."

Ranma laughed. "I'm sure Pop doesn't mind. He's always warmer like that in the winter."

"True," said Nodoka. "It brings all of them comfort."

They sat quietly for a few moments, the distant sounds of water running in the kitchen. Soun read through an old book in the corner.

"So Mom," Ranma said finally. "What do you think? Of Kozue?"

Nodoka smiled. "She's sweet, Ranma. And very thoughtful. She also clearly cares about you, and that's what's most important."

"I like her," said Soun, turning a page in his book. "I like her a lot."

Ranma looked over at him, smiling. "I'm glad to hear that."

Kozue and Kasumi emerged from the kitchen, but before they could sit, Ranma climbed to his feet.

"We should probably get going," he said, putting his arm around Kozue.

"Oh, but you could stay the night," said Kasumi. "There's room."

Kozue looked up at Ranma and he saw how terrified she was.

"That's all right," he replied. "We got that dumb dog at home to get back to."

So Kasumi, Nodoka, and Soun all showed them outside, and everyone wished each other merry Christmas and said their goodbyes and expressed their thanks. 

Kasumi was the last one to hug Ranma and whispered in his ear, "She's wonderful, Ranma. I like her so much."

"Thanks Kasumi."

They pulled apart, holding each other's hands for a moment, before he turned. Kozue took Ranma's arm and the two walked away, gazing at each other, smiling.

Kasumi watched as they continued down the street, and she found her own smile fading. They rounded the corner and Nodoka gestured for her to come back inside, but she paused at the gates. Looked over her shoulder.

They were gone, out of sight.

Of course they would be.

Kasumi smiled again and walked inside with her father.

* * *

As soon as they walked through the door, she was Akane again. P-chan ran up to them, whining impatiently as they hung up their coats and took off their shoes. Akane smiled down at the dog as he followed her over to the couch, jumping in her lap as she sat down.

Ranma followed, sitting close to her.

"Are you all right? You were so quiet on the way home," Ranma said. "Akane."

Although she was still smiling when she looked up at him, her eyes were sad. "I have so many feelings. Some good. Some bad. I don't know."

Ranma reached over. Took her hand. "It's all right. I'm here."

"It was nice, in a lot of ways. Kasumi's kids are amazing. But to see my dad—he just—I wanted to tell him the truth so bad." She sniffled, holding in tears. "That's my _dad_."

"I know, Akane. I know."

She pushed P-chan off of her lap so she could move next to Ranma. Buried her face in his chest.

"Am I Akane? I don't know. I don't know!"

He held her. Let her cry. He could always be strong for her.

But as he held her, she changed. Back and forth. Her hair was long, short. Brown, black. Her body fuller, thinner. 

"They all called me Kozue," she whispered. "Everyone calls me Kozue, except you. What did I do? I had other parents. A grandfather, who loved me. And I loved them and I miss them but they're not real!"

Ranma couldn't say anything. He wanted to say her name, but was unsure which one to use. 

"How can I be both? How can you love both?”

“Can I tell you how I see it?”

She pulled back, looked up at him. She was Kozue.

“How?”

“Kozue is the Akane that got to grow up. Kozue is the Akane that had money, who went to college and made friends across the sea. Kozue only exists because Akane exists.”

She was Akane. “You think that? You think we’re the same?”

“I know you are the same.”

“Did I ruin it?” She was Kozue. She was Akane. “Did I ruin your chance to move on?”

“I never would have moved on. Even when I thought you were someone else, I felt guilty, because it felt like you. I felt like I was replacing you, and that you wouldn’t deserve that.”

“It’s confusing.” She was Kozue. “You love me either way?”

“I do. I always will. Same soul. I know that.”

She was Akane. “We aren’t that different. Kozue is shyer. Akane is better at making friends. But otherwise, we’re the same. Kozue is stubborn, and Akane is stubborn. We both love martial arts, and our dog. And you. We love you. I love you.”

“I know. I love you.”

She settled. Her hair, a little longer than her chin. Only one shade lighter, just barely, not quite brown. Her body, full and soft. Laugh lines around her mouth. Her eyes, the same. She smiled. The same. 

“Akane," Ranma said. 

“Is it all right? Like this? Like both?”

“Yes,” he said. “Like you.”

“But please,” she whispered. “I want you to always call me Akane, when it’s just us.”

“I will. And honestly—” He hesitated.

“What is it?”

“Well, you look older this way.”

“What?” Her smile faded, her tone turned sharp.

“No, no! It’s good. Makes me feel like less of a creep.”

Surprised, she laughed, tilting her head back, her mouth opening wide. Akane. She was Akane. Happy tears fell from her eyes as she continued laughing, and she hugged him tightly. 

“I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you love me.”

“Same,” he said, and kissed the top of her head.

She pulled back again, letting her fingers run through the ends of her hair. “Maybe I’ll get a haircut. So it really looks this way. Might be easier.”

Ranma pressed his lips together in confusion. “I still don’t get how it works completely, but okay.”

“I don’t always get it either, but I think we just went through that.” Akane nodded, looking to the side. Suddenly, her gaze snapped back to him. “Oh! Ranma!”

“What is it?”

“I almost forgot! I got you a present too!” She leaned all the way forward, her head down near the floor, reaching under the couch. Ranma could see up her skirt, but unfortunately her black tights were opaque. She filled them out well, though.

She sat back up, her cheeks a little pink from the blood that had rushed to her head. Grinning, she handed him a large present, wrapped in snowman-printed paper. 

“You didn’t have to—”

“Skip the niceties, open it!”

“Okay, okay.” He tore the paper off, throwing it to the ground, where P-chan pushed it around with his nose. It was a flat rectangular giftbox, and he opened the lid. Folded back the tissue paper to reveal what was inside.

“Well? Do you like it? It’s brand new.”

He let his fingers fall. Touched it. Felt how smooth it was. He set the box on his lap. Used both of his hands to lift it out of the box, hold it up.

A red, silk shirt with a mandarin collar.

“I know you don’t really wear stuff like that anymore,” Akane said. “But I thought it might be nice for you to have just one. I just thought it would be, I dunno, nostalgic?”

He lowered it back to his lap. Looked down. Smiled. He felt tears in his eyes. 

“Ranma?” she asked. “Is it okay? It’s not too, I don’t know, regressive or something? I didn’t think you would like too big of a gift.”

There was the start of panic beginning in her voice, so he finally looked up at her. 

“It’s great,” he said. “I love it."

He stood up. Took off his sweater, so he was only in his tank top.

“You don’t have to wear it right now—”

“Yeah, I do,” he replied, throwing the silk shirt over first one arm, than the other. He began doing up the clasps, but only part way, because he was impatient. “To do what I’m about to do, I think it’s perfect.”

She smiled up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He grinned back at her, rolling up his sleeves. Dropped to one knee in front of the couch.

“I got you a gift too.”

He pulled a box out of his pocket. Held it out to her. Opened it.

“Ranma—” She put her hands over her mouth in shock.

“I thought, maybe it was too soon. But you said you wanted to be fiancees again. And I always told myself I would ask properly this time. And tonight seemed perfect for it.”

He thought he would be shaking. He wasn’t. 

“Akane,” he said. “Will you marry me?”

She left one hand covering her mouth. Used her other to reach out and touch the ring. Looked up at Ranma, wide-eyed. Took several deep breaths.

“Well?” he asked, annoyed. His knee was starting to hurt. 

“Oh! Oh yes, Ranma, yes!”

She threw herself off the couch, grabbing him around his neck, and he toppled backwards onto the floor. P-chan got caught up in the excitement and started shoving his snout at them, wagging his tail and panting heavily. 

Ranma and Akane giggled together as he tried to maneuver the ring onto her finger as they remained on the floor, P-chan desperately trying to interrupt. He finally succeeded and they kissed, his arms around her back. 

When they pulled apart, she was smiling so wide her cheeks were hurting. 

“I love you Ranma.”

“I love you too, Akane.”

“You’ll tell me everyday?”

“I’ll tell you everyday.”

She looked up, noticing something out of the back window. She jumped to her feet, pushing her hands down on Ranma’s chest, causing him to grunt softly. 

“Oh, Ranma, look!” She scurried over to the glass excitedly, P-chan on her heels. “Snow!”

Ranma stood up too, grinning as he walked over to her. He put his arms around her from behind, leaned down, rested his head on top of hers. She settled back against him. 

His whole life had been so hard. Until this moment, he had never really felt at peace. Part of him missed the crazy adventures that had happened to him when he was a teenager. After all, without them, he would never have met Akane. Everything up to that meeting he wouldn’t change for the world. But when she had died, he had lost all hope for the future. The future he had never once thought about until they met. He would trade that in, that pain, that emptiness. 

Here, now, though, Akane was in his arms. It was still messy, and very, very weird. Nothing in his life would ever not be weird, he figured. At this second, in this place, though, he finally let himself relax. He had the love of his life standing with him, a loyal dog sitting by his feet, and snow was falling on Christmas.

He took a deep breath, and prayed it wasn’t a dream.


	12. The Smart One

“It wasn’t.”

Ranma woke up Christmas morning, Akane and P-chan still asleep in the bed. He slapped his face, and it hurt. He frowned, then laughed at himself for being stupid. The sun wasn’t up, yet, so he tiptoed down to the kitchen. Five in the morning, according to the clock on the microwave. He could make cinnamon buns. They would have time to rise. And he could squeeze in a quick workout while they were proving. 

With a yawn, he got to work. 

When Akane came downstairs, she was wearing that lilac shirt and leggings that he remembered so fondly. She gave him a bleary-eyed look as she sat down at the island and he handed her a cup of coffee. 

“Thank you.” She took a sip. “What smells so good?”

“Cinnamon buns.”

“Really? Ah, Ranma, you’re so good at everything.”

“I know.” He grinned. “Can’t help it.”

She giggled and propped her elbow up on the countertop, resting her chin on her hand. “Nice to see you so confident.”

“Well,” he said, leaning over, still grinning. “I know I was a mournful, lousy, drunk. But I was never not confident.”

She laughed again. He felt like his heart was going to burst.

That’s how they spent their day, laughing and teasing. Eating cinnamon buns. Playing in the snow like kids. P-chan absolutely loved the stuff, burying his nose deep in the white, powdery snowfall and then throwing his head around, tossing it everywhere. It started snowing again in the late afternoon, and they went indoors, wrapping themselves in blankets on the couch, drinking hot chocolate. Until P-chan jumped into Akane’s lap, causing her to spill her mug.

“Damn it, Akane! That’s hot!”

“It was an accident!”

“I told you we shouldn’t let him on the couch anymore!”

“Oh, come on, it’s the first time he’s ever actually caused anything to spill!”

“It’s hot chocolate! It’s going to stain!”

They stopped yelling simultaneously, staring at each other as they stood in front of the hot chocolate covered couch. They broke into mirroring grins.

“We argued,” she said, her smile growing wider. 

“We argued,” he repeated.

“That’s—” She paused. Took a deep breath. “Awesome.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“It means—it’s going to work. We’re going to work. We’re going to be normal.”

“Me and you will never be normal,” Ranma replied, shaking his head, still smiling. “But it does mean this is for real.”

P-chan jumped up on the couch and started licking the cushions.

“Hey, knock that off, stupid—”

“Ranma! Don’t call the dog stupid!”

“Dogs can’t have chocolate!”

“That’s somewhat of a myth—”

“Do not ‘well, actually’ me right now—”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

They kept arguing. Somehow it ended with them kissing. And going up to the bedroom. 

And Ranma finally felt like everything was real.

* * *

Akane had to go back to work the day after Christmas. Ranma and P-chan walked her to the train stop, since the snow had made the roads icy and he was worried about her. Ranma spent the rest of his day endeavoring to remove the hot chocolate stain from the couch, periodically shooting glares at an oblivious P-chan as he attempted to destroy one of his dog toys in the corner. In the afternoon, Ranma leashed him up once more to go pick up Akane.

She was nearly in tears as she got off the train, stepping right into his arms. Ranma put his arm around her and P-chan whined sympathetically.

“What’s wrong?”

She just shook her head. Took P-chan’s leash from his hand. “I’ll tell you at home.”

He wanted to hold onto her, but one of her hands held her bag, and the other P-chan’s leash, so he just walked close to her, a million scenarios running through his mind. They got home, took off their shoes, put away their outerwear. Akane sat at the kitchen island while Ranma fixed tea. She looked despondent and he just wanted to see her smile again. 

He set a mug in front of her.

“Please. Tell me.”

She pulled the mug forward, holding it close to her. 

“It was—” She took a deep breath, on the verge of a sob. “Nabiki.”

“Nabiki?”

“She saw—” She held up her left hand. “She saw the engagement ring.”

“And I’m guessing she didn’t say ‘congratulations.’”

Akane shook her head. “Ranma, I’ve never seen her that mad. She pulled me into her office. Called me all kinds of names. Accused me of trying to steal the dojo. Said she would fire me the next time I made any kind of mistake. Said I was suspended anyway! For the next week.”

Ranma balled his hands into fists, his knuckles cracking. “Screw her. You don’t need that job anyway.”

“I like the job, Ranma. I like the work. I like seeing Nabiki.”

He scoffed. “How can you say that? Even after today?”

“She’s my sister, Ranma. I love her.”

He shook his head. “And here I thought we worked it out.”

“Worked what out?”

“No, I meant me and Nabiki. I had it out with her on Christmas Eve. Told her she needed to be nice to you.”

“I thought you said everybody was happy to meet me.”

“Nabiki was—still is, apparently—worried that you were trying to replace—” He paused. “You, I guess.”

She sighed. “Oh, Ranma.”

“Listen—” He reached across the island, gestured for her hand. She stretched out to him, their fingers touching. “Soon, you’re gonna be my wife. And she’ll just have to get over it.”

“Your wife.” That made her smile. “Sounds good.”

“It was always gonna happen, some way or another.”

“I believe that.”

They didn’t argue that night, even though the couch cushions were still stained. Akane just artfully threw a blanket over them, and although Ranma rolled his eyes, he smiled and kissed her afterwards. They went to bed together, and it occurred to him that it was their room now, shared between them. It had happened when neither of them had noticed, his clothes appearing in her drawers. His towel on her shower rack. His toothbrush next to hers on the sink. This was what love meant. Sharing the most simple and mundane parts of yourself and feeling so comfortable with it you hardly even notice. 

In the morning, they opted to let P-chan pee in the backyard instead of trying to walk him down the icy streets. But Ranma insisted he needed to go grocery shopping. Akane refused to go with him, instead she took her own turn attempting to get the stains out of the couch. As he walked to the door, she gave him a kiss and told him to text her if anything out of the ordinary happened.

He agreed and left. 

He walked to the train stop. Took the train downtown. Walked through the entrance doors of a big glass skyscraper. Rode the elevator nearly to the top. Ignored the receptionist at the front desk, the stares of other workers as he strode forward. 

Opened the door to Nabiki’s office. Slammed it behind him. 

“Nabiki—”

She turned around in her tall backed leather chair. She was framed by the ice covered skyline of Nerima through the window behind her. She held up one finger, smiling, holding a phone receiver to her ear. 

Ranma fumed, his knuckles turning white with how tightly he was clenching his fists. 

“Of course, Iida-san. Oh yes, I have the contract right here. Don’t worry, the rates are very favorable. To me, of course. I’ll send it over. You should have it tomorrow. Bye-bye!”

Nabiki hung up the phone and looked up at Ranma, the smile remaining in place. She clasped her hands together on her desk, which was as large and impressive as the rest of the room.

“Ranma-kun. How may I help you?”

He marched forward. Slammed his palms on the desk, causing it to shake. Pleased to see her flinch, just a tiny bit. “I told you to be nice to Kozue.”

“She came to work dressed unprofessionally,” Nabiki replied coolly. 

“Unprofessionally?!” Ranma gaped. “You mean the engagement ring?”

“It was pretty gaudy,” Nabiki said, shrugging one shoulder. 

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“An idiot! The world’s biggest! I know you always thought I was the stupid one, but it was you all along!”

“Watch yourself, Ranma—”

“Why? What are you gonna do to me? There’s nothing you can hold over my head!”

“Nothing? What about Kozue’s career?”

“She doesn’t need your lousy job. She only works here because she actually likes you, for some crazy reason!”

This took Nabiki aback. “Really?”

Ranma lost some of his steam. “Yeah. Trust me, I don’t get it.”

“I’m not sure I can return the sentiment.”

“You know, I really thought we worked this out the other night.”

“I thought so too, but then you decided to get engaged? Without telling me? When you just said I was your sister?”

He saw the hurt in her eyes. “I didn’t tell anybody yet. It’s been two days. I haven’t even told my mom.”

“You have a cell phone, don’t you?”

“It shouldn’t even matter! I’m a grown man, I can make my own choices!”

“And she is your choice?” Nabiki stood. Crossed her arms. “Ranma. How long have the two of you even been together? A few months?”

He hesitated. How could he tell her that, no, they had been together for fourteen years. Off and on. The thought almost caused him to laugh, but he held it in. 

“It doesn’t matter. I know she’s the one for me.”

“Isn’t that what you thought about Akane?”

“Yes.” He hoped, desperately, that she would figure it out then. But there was no dawning realization in her face. Only suspicion. Only distrust. So he continued. “But what am I supposed to do, Nabiki? Wander around alone like a monk for the rest of my life? Would that make you happy?”

She looked away from him. “No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

Despite himself, he smiled. “Nabiki. Please. She cares about you, you know.”

“Why?”

He gave her as much of the truth as he could. “Because you’re important to me.”

Nabiki closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Opened her eyes. “Ranma, I am sorry. I just panicked. I shouldn’t have lashed out at her. And she just—she just stood there and took it. I’d seen her stand up for herself so many times, that I thought she would shout back at me. But it just looked like I crushed her. And that made me feel worse, and I yelled more.”

Ranma fidgeted in place a bit. Even after everything, it was still hard when Nabiki was genuine. “She stands up for herself, though?”

“Oh yes,” Nabiki said with a laugh. “She’s the best one to send in to deal with pushy male clients. Doesn’t give them an inch.”

“That’s my girl,” said Ranma. 

“Is she?” asked Nabiki, but her tone was light. She sighed. “All right. Tell her she can come back to work tomorrow. And she better not be late.”

“And—?”

“Is that not enough?” Nabiki huffed.

Ranma just stared at her.

“And—” Nabiki grunted. “Tell her I’m sorry. I’ll try to be nicer. Is that enough?”

“For now.” He grinned. “Thank you.”

“Great. Now get out. I’m sure security is already on the way, if not here already.”

Ranma took a look behind her. “This window’s probably too high to jump out of, huh?”

“It doesn’t even open, Ranma.”   


He shrugged. “That’s never really stopped me before, but in this case, I’ll take the elevator.”

“Do not beat up anybody on the way out!” She yelled after him, as he opened the door and neatly hopped over the heads of a crowd of security guards.

“Stairs it is then!” Ranma called back over his shoulder. 

"Ranma—"

But he was gone, the confused security guards attempting to chase after him. With a sigh and a chuckle, she shut the door to her office.

Things with Ranma never really changed.

* * *

Akane made more progress with the hot chocolate stains in the couch than Ranma did, but they were still faintly visible. Maybe she should just buy a new couch. With a heavy sigh, she pulled the blanket back over the cushions, deciding to ask Ranma when he got home. 

It was nearly eleven, and he still wasn't back. She briefly chewed on one thumbnail before opening her phone and writing out a text.

_ >You okay? Been gone a while. _

Her heart rate skyrocketed, but it was less than a minute before she received a response.

_ >>I'm fine. Be home soon. _

She let out a sigh of relief.

There was a knock on the door.

Curious, she looked up. P-chan started barking his head off, and Akane shushed him as she walked over. She took a look out of the side window and went pale.

And then opened the door.

"Kozue-san."

Kasumi, standing there in a bulky winter coat.

"Kasumi-san," Akane said, surprised. "Come in."

"I don't mean to intrude," said Kasumi. "I called Nabiki and asked for your address and she said you had been suspended."

"Oh, I—" Akane felt flustered. "It was a misunderstanding."

"I'm sure it must have been."

"Oh, come in, come in, what am I thinking."

Akane helped her sister with her coat, handed her slippers. Swallowed down her guilt. Showed Kasumi over to the couch, sitting on the far end away from her.

"Is Ranma-kun home?" Kasumi asked as she looked around the bright and airy room.

"He's out grocery shopping. I stayed home to do some chores." She didn't want to admit to her sister, the perfect housekeeper, that she had irreparably stained her couch and was hiding her shame with a blanket.

"Very well. You're the one I wanted to talk to, anyway."

"Really?" Akane's spine stiffened.

"Yes. Firstly, congratulations on your engagement." Kasumi smiled and tilted her head slightly in the direction of Akane's hand resting in her lap.

Akane instinctively moved to cover it up, but realized that was stupid and let her other hand fall back down. "Thank you."

"Ranma must love you very much."

Akane smiled, a little sad. "I certainly hope he does."

"But you must forgive my nosiness once more. I have to ask—what has he told you about Akane?"

Akane froze. Looked into her sister's warm eyes, that were looking at her, but not seeing her. Hearing Kasumi say her name, but not call her by it. Her heart started pumping so hard her chest began to hurt.

"Akane," she repeated slowly. "Your sister."

"Yes. I assume he must have told you, before he brought you over for Christmas."

"He did."

"And what did he tell you?"

The truth. "That she was the love of his life."

"And that didn't concern you?"

The truth again. "No."

"I see."

The two women sat in silence for a moment, Akane trying not to shake. With a deep breath, she stood up. Headed to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, I'm being rude. I should make tea. I'd offer you more, but I can't make much else—"

"It's you isn't it?" her sister said from behind her. "Akane-chan."

Her fingers had just reached the kettle. She pulled her hand back. Smiled. Closed her eyes as they filled with tears. Let herself change. Turned around.

"Hey, sis."

Kasumi was already standing. Next to the couch, one hand over her mouth. Looking back at Akane in shock. Akane closed the gap between them, wanting to take her sister's hands, but Kasumi kept them close to herself.

"How? I thought I was crazy, but—how? Please, tell me." Kasumi's eyes overflowed with tears and she reached out to touch her little sister's face. "Akane."

"I'll tell you," Akane whispered. "I've wanted to tell you for so long."

They were both crying openly as Kasumi fully embraced her, and they held each other like that for a long while. And then they sat together, on the couch, holding hands, and Akane told her story.

Kasumi kept looking at her in wonder and smiling, occasionally reaching up to push Akane's hair away from her face.

"So it's complicated," Akane finished. "But I think we've figured it out."

"Akane," Kasumi said. "Only you would be strong enough to make something like this happen."

"Nah," said Akane. "Ranma would have done the same for me."

"Maybe so." Kasumi squeezed her hands.

"Now I want to ask you something, Kasumi."

"Anything."

"How did you figure it out?"

"Hmm. Well, a few things. Firstly, remember when we were doing dishes?"

"Of course." 

"You put everything away in the right place, without asking where it went. Even that old mixing bowl that's too big to fit in with the other bowls—you knew it went in the other cabinet."

Akane laughed. "That's what tipped you off?"

"Not just that. I thought, maybe she just knows her way around a kitchen. But then I remembered Ranma said you hired him as your chef. And then, you started humming, that old lullaby."

"Oh?"

"Yes. But I don't think you knew that is one Mother made up, right after you were born."

Akane smiled. "I didn't know."

"And I tried to rationalize that, too. It's a simple tune. But what really made me think, somehow, some way, Akane has been brought back to us, was just—"

"Just?"

"The way he looked at you." Kasumi's smile grew. "Now, Akane, don't get me wrong. I love my husband, deeply. He is the only one for me. But I don't think there's ever been two people in history that looked at each other the way you and Ranma do."

"Really?" Akane removed one of her hands from her sister's grip. Wiped the tears from her eyes. Clutched Kasumi's hands again.

"Really. Because it's not just love, in your eyes. It's annoyance. Pride. Admiration. A challenge. Complete devotion. And when the two of you walked away the other night, I knew it had to be you. Because even if Ranma ever looked at somebody else like that, there's no way they would be able to return that expression."

"I never knew you were such a romantic," Akane said, laughing through her tears.

"Me? You fought your way back from the dead for a boy!"

They both laughed, together. Hugged.

"And one more thing," Kasumi said, their cheeks pressed together side by side. 

"What's that?"

"I mostly suspected. I was coming here to ask you some more questions. But then when I got here, I confirmed it had to be you."

"How's that?"

"The security code. On your gate. It's mother's birthday."

Akane let out a deep sigh. "I forgot about the gate."

Kasumi laughed and held her tight. 

"Akane," she whispered. "My baby sister. Akane."

Akane closed her eyes. The only one to call her that in so long had been Ranma. But now there was another person, who knew, who saw her. Her world had doubled in size.

Akane pulled away. Explained a few more things. Showed Kasumi what Ranma saw. Kasumi told her to stay that way. It made it seem like her younger sister had grown up after all. They did eventually make tea.

Finally, Ranma came home. 

"Hey! Hey, boy!" He said to P-chan. He walked into the kitchen, arms loaded down with grocery bags. "Hey A—Kasumi. You're here."

"It's okay, Ranma," Akane said, helping him set the bags on the counter. "She knows."

"You know?" Ranma asked Kasumi. "That she's—"

"Akane, yes," said Kasumi, smiling at him from her seat at the kitchen island. 

"Oh." Ranma broke into a relieved grin. "Great."

They told him how she had figured it out. He laughed.

"It only took you a few days," he said. "It took me months."

"I think your heart was just too closed to hope," Kasumi said.

"Kasumi, I knew you were the perceptive one," Ranma replied. "The smart sister."

"Hey!" said Akane. "I'm perceptive!"

"Are you?" asked Ranma. "You literally never in your life figured out Ryoga was P-chan."

"Well, it's not like Kasumi knew either—"

Kasumi quietly took a sip of tea.

"Wait, you did know about P-chan?"

Kasumi said nothing, but at the sound of his name, the dog started jumping up and down around the three of them, thinking he was owed attention. Ranma let him outside, throwing a ball after him into the yard.

"Anyway," Ranma said as he turned back to Kasumi and Akane. "This means she can only tell one more person."

"I know it should be Dad or Nabiki," Akane said. "But I don't know how to choose."

"I think it should be your dad," Ranma said. "If Nabiki hasn't figured it out yet, she's never going to."

"What do you think, Kasumi?"

"I think," she said slowly. "Maybe Ranma is right. If I lost one of my children, but they came back—maybe it's selfish. I would want to know."

"But how do we get him to figure it out?" asked Akane. "He's also not exactly perceptive."

"Mirai," said Ranma. "She's the key."

"Mirai-chan?" asked Kasumi. "How?"

Ranma grinned. "When she flipped me over at Kenshi's birthday, I saw his reaction. Pride. It clearly reminded him of Akane. And seeing them side by side on Christmas Eve—I think he wants to believe it. He gave you your old gi, after all."

"That's true," Akane said, her eyes watering at the memory.

"So that's what we do. Kasumi, you ask him if he's willing to open up the dojo. Just for Akane—Kozue—to train Mirai."

"You think that's all it will take? Watching them train together?" Kasumi asked.

"Maybe," said Ranma. "Even if he doesn't figure it out, I think he will be happy to open up the dojo for his granddaughter. Hope for the Anything Goes school after all."

The three of them remained in silence for a moment. It was as good a plan as any.

P-chan started scratching at the back door. Ranma sighed and let him in and he tracked a combination of mud and snow into the house before Ranma grabbed him around the middle and lifted him up.

"Come on, mutt, let's go wash you off."

P-chan licked his face happily as Ranma carried him to the bath.

Once alone, Akane looked back at Kasumi. "Did you really know Ryoga was P-chan?"

Kasumi smiled. "Everyone did."

"Oh, great," Akane sighed. "You are the smart one."


	13. In My Room

Akane was not thrilled that Ranma had gone downtown and yelled at Nabiki, and they fought over it themselves after Kasumi left. Yet she went into work the next day, and felt relieved that Nabiki mostly ignored her.

One thing Nabiki did say to her, right as she was leaving for the day, was, "Tell Ranma-kun to call his mother."

Ranma winced as Akane relayed the message. "I guess I should, huh?"

"Yeah," said Akane, leaning on the counter top as she took a seat on the stool. "I can't believe you haven't yet."

"Fine," Ranma grumbled.

"What's your issue?"

"She just wanted me to get married so bad."

"Well, she is your mom. She just wants to see you happy."

Ranma pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. With a sigh, he dialed the number.

"You don't have it saved to your contacts?"

"What for? I know it."

"Still—"

"Hello?" Nodoka's voice, over the speakerphone.

"Mom, hey, it's me. And—Kozue."

"Oh! Hello you two! How are you?"

"Doing well, thank you."

"Anyway, Mom, I just called to tell you something."

"What's that, dear?"

"I—uh—oh jeez—"

"We're getting married."

Silence.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Mom, really. I asked her, she said yes."

The sound of a crash. The sound of something like an air raid siren.

"Mom are you okay? Mom? Hello?"

Clattering. Static. 

"Hello?" Genma's voice.

"Pop? Where's Mom?"

"She started hollering and crying, and she's currently in the living room doing some sort of fan dance."

"Is it a happy fan dance?" 

"I would say so. What did you tell her?"

"I'm getting married, Pop."

A small silence. "Congratulations, son."

"Thanks."

"Let me talk to them, let me talk to them—Ranma!"

"Mom."

"And Kozue, darling, are you still there?"

"I'm here."

"Congratulations! Oh, I'm so happy! I can't wait to start wedding planning, I have so many ideas. Oh, should we do it western style? No, traditional. No, I bet Kozue would look better in a dress than a kimono—"

"Mom."

"Let me have this!"

Shuffling. Muffled yells.

"You'll have to excuse your mother, she's just excited."

"I get it, Pop. We'll try and stop by this weekend."

"I'll try and calm your mother down by then."

"Thanks Pop."

Another small silence.

"Congratulations again. To you both."

_ Click. _

Ranma shut his phone and gave Akane a weary look. "You see?"

"It's sweet, Ranma. Your dad seemed happy too, even."

Ranma smiled. "He did, didn't he?"

P-chan, sitting by Akane's feet, gave a small yap.

"Are you happy too, P-chan?" Akane asked him. 

The dog started wagging his tail, looking up at her panting, his mouth hanging open. He bent his neck. Threw up.

"Aw, jeez, what did you get into?"

"Probably licked that chocolate off the couch." 

"I told you, that is a myth—"

"And yet, here our floor is, covered in dog vomit—"

"It's one small pile—"

And so they continued. Things with Ranma never really changed, after all.

* * *

"So what do you think, Father?"

Kasumi sat across the table from Soun in her father's house.

"I don't know, Kasumi," he said. "Opening it one time on Christmas was one thing. This is—what you're asking is—"

"Please, Father. It would be good for Mirai."

Her daughter, sitting right next to her, clenched her hands into tiny fists in front of her face.

"Please, Grandpa? We don't have room for me to train properly at home."

Soun's mustache trembled. Kasumi smiled. She knew bringing Mirai along would help seal the deal.

"Mirai-chan, a true martial artist—"

"Please Grandpa?" She jumped over to his side of the table and started crawling all over him as she repeated herself. "Please Grandpa? Please Grandpa? Please Grandpa? PLEASE GRANDPA! PLEASE GRANDPA!"

"All right, all right!" he yelled in exasperation, bent over as she screamed in his ear.

"Yay!"

Mirai threw her arms around her grandfather's neck. He hugged her back with a chuckle.

"Father, I'm so glad."

"Yes, but it's only open so Mirai-chan can train with Ranma's—" His voice caught on the word. "Fiancee."

Kasumi reached out and took his hand from across the table.

"I think you'll be surprised with how much you'll like her."

* * *

Akane took a deep breath.

Stepped into the dojo.

"It's cold!" said Mirai, hugging her own shoulders.

"The heat never did work right in here," Soun said, shutting the door behind them. 

"That just means we have to work extra hard, right, Mirai-chan?"

"Yes, Auntie Kozue!"

"In here, please call me sensei."

"Okay, sensei."

Akane walked her out to the middle of the room. She had brought her own (Kozue's?) white gi, not being able to bear the thought of wearing her old one again. Soun took a seat near the wall, crossing his arms to keep warm.

"So what are we gonna do first, sensei? Anything Goes Ultimate Secret Technique? The Crouch of the Wild Tiger? Carp on a Cutting Board? Howl of the Demon Dog?"

Akane felt a bead of sweat form on her forehead. "Who has been teaching you those garbage techniques?"

"Grandpa Panda!"

"Of course," Akane said, sighing. She pointed to the calligraphy on the wall. "But, Mirai-chan, you see that sign up there?"

" _ I—ro—ha _ ," Mirai said, carefully forming her mouth around the syllables.

"You know what that means?"

"What?"

"Fundamentals."

Mirai frowned. "What does that mean?"

Akane smiled. "It means we begin at the beginning."

Akane led her through warm up stretches, which Mirai complained were boring. She had been the same when she was that age. Always impatient. Just wanting to get to the punching. But Akane told her how important it was to have a strong base to build on. Mirai was clever, and perceptive, already knowing simple ways to trick and distract an opponent. At least, she thought she did. Akane recognized many of the special techniques the girl tried to show off to her as being invented by Genma or Ranma.

So Akane made Mirai fall back, think things through. She could relate to the impatience.

At the end of their session, Akane placed a board across two cinderblocks.

"Oh, is it time for punching?" Mirai stood on her toes, eagerly shifting her weight back and forth.

"Yes," said Akane. "Time for punching."

Mirai took her place over the board. Akane watched closely, made sure her posture was correct. Told the girl to remember her breathing. Mirai nodded with deadly seriousness. Turned her attention back to the board. Took a deep breath. Yelled.

Punched.

The board broke apart, the wood splintering and flying up and around.

"Yay!" Mirai jumped up and clapped her hands. "I did it! That was easy!"

"It was, wasn't it?" Akane said, laughing. "Next week, we'll try two boards."

"Yes, sensei!"

"Now, go wash up, it will be time for dinner soon."

"Okay!" Mirai dashed forward, giving Akane a quick hug around her waist, before running out of the dojo, sliding the door shut behind her.

Akane turned back to the wood mess as Soun stood to help her clean it up.

"You're quite a good teacher," Soun said, lifting the tiny splinters up between his fingers.

"Thank you," said Akane. She had gotten her hair cut the day before. Pulled it into a small ponytail for the day. She wondered if she really looked any more like herself. "She's a good student."

"Isn't she? Smart. Fiery. Reminds me of—"

He fell silent, resting on his knees, weight back on his heels.

Akane sat to his side, but faced him. Looked at his profile as he stared at the  _ iroha _ sign.

"It's all right," she said. "You can talk about her."

"My daughter," Soun said softly. "They're so much alike. She was just as stubborn."

Akane let out a small laugh, her eyes filling with tears.

Soun turned and looked at her curiously. “What has Ranma told you? About her?”

“So much,” said Akane. “Everything.”

“He was the love of her life, you know,” Soun said.

“I know.”

“So I have to admit, it does pain me slightly, to hear him refer to you as his fiancee.” Soun smiled, tears forming in his eyes. “Because to me, that was always—”

He hesitated. Looked down at her. Narrowed his eyes. Shook his head. Looked at her again. Spoke.

“It was always—”

Another pause. His voice was thick with tears. She looked up at him. Come on, Dad. You can do it. I know you know me. 

And there was a shift in his eyes. A cloud passing over, revealing sunlight. He began shaking. Reached out, stopping before he touched her. 

“Akane."

She smiled. Cried with him. Let herself change.

“It’s me, Dad.”

He made a noise, incoherent. Shocked. Grateful. Caught her up in his arms. They held each other, on the floor of the dojo, among the splinters left by her niece. 

“My daughter,” he whispered. “My baby.”

She loved Ranma. She loved her sister. But this one, this one hurt the most. This time she cried the hardest. She felt like a baby, then, sobbing in her father’s arms. Let him rock her back and forth. Neither one of them could make anything resembling speech for a long time. 

It took all of her strength to pull back, but her father kept hold of her forearms. 

“How?” he said. “Have I died? Is this heaven?”

“No,” she shook her head. “You’re alive. I’m alive. It’s a long story.”

“Please, tell me.”

“I can, but it’s a little easier for me to look like this, first.” She let herself change again, to the way Ranma and Kasumi now saw her. It was starting to be how she felt the most comfortable. The most her.

“You look—grown up,” Her father said, reaching up to touch her hair. “I never thought I’d get to see you like this.”

“Dad, I—”

“Hey, are you guys coming into dinner or what?”

Ranma had opened the door of the dojo, and it  _ clack _ ed as it reached the end of its track. He stood in the doorway, and took one look at Akane and Soun, both crying on the floor.

“Aw, man,” said Ranma. “Everybody figured it out quicker than me, huh?”

* * *

Kasumi had Tofu take Mirai home, while she sat with Ranma and Akane to talk with her father after dinner. Soun had barely touched his food, and had simply stared at Akane in wonder as Mirai kept asking her questions about her plans for next week’s lesson. The young girl had wanted to stay overnight, but Kasumi had been firm.

After it was just the four of them, Akane told her story again, most likely for the last time. Her father listened. Cried. Thanked her. Thanked Ranma. Thanked Kasumi. Fretted over Nabiki. And they all talked. Talked and talked and talked. Everything hurt and everything was a blessing. His daughter was home. 

It was nearly midnight when Kasumi finally left. Akane and Ranma moved to leave too, but Soun insisted they stay the night.

“But the dog—” said Ranma.

“He’ll be all right,” said Akane. “Just for tonight.”

Soun reluctantly went to bed before them, and they walked upstairs alone. Ranma started heading to the guest room, his old room, but Akane stopped somewhere else. Right in the middle of the hallway. In front of a door that had a wooden ducky plaque hanging on it. 

“Akane.”

She whispered her own name, reaching out, letting her fingertips rest on the English letters. 

“Did you want to sleep in there?” Ranma asked.

“No,” she answered without hesitation, shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s the same,” he said. “They didn’t move anything at all.”

She paused. “I would like to see.”

“Okay.”

She didn’t seem to have the strength, so he moved in front of her slightly and opened the door. Turned on the light. Akane slowly stepped in, looking around.

They hadn’t moved anything. Someone had made her bed. But other than that, it was all untouched. A faded poster on the wall. A desk covered in dust. A deflated looking stuffed pig that she had won at the fair in the corner. But otherwise, neat. She had left everything tidy, in its place. 

“This is my room,” she whispered. “This was my room.”

“Akane,” said Ranma. “Are you okay?”

“I can never tell anyone the truth, ever again.”

He was behind her, near the door. She kept staring forward, at the window. The dark void of night that loomed behind the curtain. 

“This wasn’t my room. I had a room, in another house. Big and pink! And then another house after that, full of old people decorations and stacks of books. And then my dorm room, which I shared with another girl, that was so messy I nearly threw up every time I opened the door. And then my studio apartment, in New York! Ranma, I lived in New York! It was like Tokyo, but not like Tokyo. I could never live in the country, you know that Ranma?”

“Akane.”

She turned around. “All those rooms. They were mine. I remember them. Kozue was real. Is real. Am I living her life? Am I just living Akane’s life? He said I wasn’t killing Kozue, but maybe—maybe—”

He moved forward. Took her hands. Looked into her eyes. “There is no Kozue without Akane.”

“Should there be? She wanted things. I wanted things.”

“What is it? What did you want?”

“I—” She started crying. “I just didn’t want to be lonely anymore.”

“Are you lonely? Still? Even with me? Kasumi? Your father? Mirai? Nabiki? P-chan? We’re all here. All of us. And isn’t that what Kozue wanted? What you wanted? Family?”

She looked up at him. She hadn’t changed once. “You’re right.”   


He kissed her, but it was a kiss of comfort, not passion. 

“But I’ll always wonder.”

“How can you not?”

He led her out of the room. Turned off the light. Shut the door. Walked down the hallway. Pulled the futons out of the guest room closet. Laid them flat on the floor. They both stripped down to their underwear. Akane was wearing a sports bra instead of a real bra, so she felt comfortable. Cuddled with each other under the blanket. 

Fell asleep.


	14. White Flowers, Golden Sky

Ranma woke up before everyone. Prepared breakfast. Soun and Akane met him at the table, and the three of them had a pleasant and boring conversation. Ranma was thrilled.

Shortly after, Kasumi arrived.

"Kasumi? You're here alone?"

"Yes," Kasumi replied as she took a seat. "Father called me here."

Akane looked over at Soun. "What's up, Dad?"

He smiled at the sound of his youngest child calling him dad. "I have a question to ask of you, and Ranma."

"What is it?"

"Would the two of you consider moving in here, after you're married?"

Akane and Ranma looked at each other. They communicated silently before she turned back to her dad.

"Yes," she said. "Absolutely."

He smiled wide. "Wonderful."

"It was always the plan, wasn't it?" said Ranma. "Me and Akane get married. Carry on the dojo."

"Yes," said Soun. "Which is why I asked Kasumi over."

"Me?"

"Yes. Currently, you know, I have everything, the dojo, the house, everything in it—all willed to you."

"What about Nabiki?" asked Akane.

"I was afraid she would sell it," Soun replied. "She always said she would."

"So you want to leave everything to Akane and Ranma now, Father?" asked Kasumi.

"Well, it's more like I was hoping you could share it, somehow."

"Father, I—" Kasumi hesitated. "I think it would be better to leave it to them. They're much better suited to running a dojo."

"Kasumi, I know you're not a martial artist, but—"

"Sis, it's okay, I'd love for us all to be together—"

"No, no," said Kasumi. "It's not that. It's just—well. I wouldn't be comfortable."

"Well, it won't matter for a while, huh?" Ranma shrugged. "By the time your dad dies, all your kids will be grown up and married. Probably all our kids, too."

"Our kids?" asked Akane.

"Sure. We'll probably have a bunch."

"How much is a bunch?"

"Seven, eight?"

"Eight? You wanna have eight kids?!"

"Sure, why not?"

"Why not?!"

Soun and Kasumi smiled at each other. It was clear Ranma was teasing just to get a reaction out of Akane. It felt so familiar and silly and precious.

As Soun stood up from the table, the pair continued arguing. So they didn't notice when he stumbled. Clutched his chest. Braced himself on the wall.

They did notice when he fell, making a loud thump on the floor.

"Dad!"

"Father!"

Ranma rushed forward, turned Soun onto his back.

"He's having a heart attack—"

"I'll call an ambulance—"

Kasumi had her phone out, dialing. Ranma held onto Soun as he gasped with pain and passed out, his arm falling to his side. Ranma felt for his pulse, listened for his breath. Started chest compressions.

Akane could only watch. Everything was buzzing. No. Not her dad. Not now. She climbed to her feet. 

Shouted the name of the God of Death.

He appeared before her, dressed in pajamas and a nightcap.

"Child, what is it? I was sleeping."

Time had frozen around them. Ranma, still on the floor, hovering over her father. Kasumi, crying on the phone.

"You said," Akane growled with furious tears. "That you weren't a trickster. That this wouldn't happen."

The God of Death took a look around them. "No, child. I said you would lead a happy life, with the boy you love. This was simply your father's time to go."

"No," she whispered. "Not now!"

"A parent should go before their child, should they not?"

"Bring him back! Bring him back!"

"Have you not been offered enough special treatment, child?"

She had never heard the God of Death use such a tone. Not even when she had beat his face in while fighting her way back to life.

"Then please," she whispered. "Let me see him. Just once."

A weary, immortal sigh. "Very well."

She was in a field of white flowers. The sky was gold. In front of her, her father, smiling.

"Dad," she cried, running to him. He clasped her hands in his. They felt warm, rough.

"Akane," her father said. "It's all right."

"No, Dad. It's not fair. It's not right. There wasn't enough time."

"There never is."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry."

"No," he said. "My daughter came back to me. She fought her way back to life. How proud can a father be, to have a daughter strong enough to do that?"

"Dad, I love you."

"I love you, too. Take care of your sisters. My grandchildren. Mirai, Toya, Kenshi. And the ones yet to come. All eight of them."

She laughed through her tears. "Okay, Dad."

"I'm sorry I won't see you get married."

"That's all right, Dad. You'll be there with us, somehow."

"I have to go now, Akane. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

The flowers disappeared. The world turned gray once more. Akane was left, empty-handed, with the God of Death.

"Are you satisfied, child?"

"Of course not." She turned to him, her eyes empty of tears but full of anger. "He was the third person I was able to tell the truth. The last one."

"That was our agreement, yes. Three people, who called you by name."

"Wrong." She raised her hand into the air. She had learned the rules of the underworld. And most importantly, she had read her contract. "Papers, please!"

A burst of flame erupted and faded in her open palm, leaving a sheaf of papers, her contract, in her hand. She flipped through them. Found what she was looking for. Turned the papers around to show the God of Death.

"Not three people," she said. "Three living souls."

The God of Death pulled a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket. Set them on his face. Leaned forward and peered at the text closely.

"I see," he said simply. "So what is it you request?"

"My father is dead," she replied. "No longer a living soul. So I get to tell another person."

The God of Death looked back at her. "Did you anticipate this, child? This is not the standard language."

"Not this, exactly," said Akane. "But something like it. Which is why I asked, before I walked through the door."

The God of Death laughed. "You have been a worthy opponent. I am bound by the contract. But, child, when you die a second time, and move to your next life, things will be different for you. You have tampered with the way of things too much.”

"How will they be different?" Akane asked.

"You will remember. Everything."

And then he was gone. The world took on color again. Ranma was shouting at her. The paramedics were coming through the door.

"Akane!"

He had her by the shoulders. She blinked up at him. 

"Ranma?"

"Where were you? You just disappeared and reappeared, right in front of my eyes."

Akane looked over at the stretcher bearing her father's body.

"I was saying goodbye."

* * *

It was a long time before they made it home. Akane couldn't leave Kasumi behind to deal with everything. And when Nabiki showed up she was infuriated once more. Demanded that Akane—Kozue—have no part in their plans going forward. Ranma had put his arm around Akane and ushered her home. If it wasn't for his strength, she wouldn't have made it.

And when they walked through the door, she saw the house was a disaster. P-chan had torn the couch cushions to bits, leaving clouds of white stuffing all over the floor. Akane thought of the field of white flowers where she had last seen her father.

She sank to her knees, shoes still on her feet. Fell forward, bent over completely, hiding her face. Sobbed as Ranma rubbed her back.

She had been too young, when her mother died, to grieve her properly. As she had grown older, she had mostly mourned the potential of having a mother in her life. And whatever she had felt after her own death she hesitated to call grief, although it was. But this, this was real, proper grief, of a man she had known and loved and been stolen from and reunited with.

She had gotten lucky, in unbelievable ways. But this still felt unfair.

Ranma was carrying her, up to bed. She let him. Didn't protest or struggle as he removed her clothes. Dressed her in pajamas. Let him pull a blanket up over her shoulders.

"I'll clean up. Don't worry."

How was he always so strong? He would have fought his way back quicker, if he had been the one. Would have sought out the God of Death and challenged him first. She should have done the same.

At some point, she fell asleep. When she woke up, it was pitch black outside and Ranma was next to her, snoring softly. She rolled over, touched his shoulder, lightly enough not to wake him. She couldn't make out his face in the dark, but she just wanted to feel him, even if with just her fingertips.

She loved him, she loved him, oh god, how she loved him. She had loved him since they were kids. She loved him after all this time. She would love him for the next sixty or seventy years. And in the next life, she would remember, and find him, and love him again.

"Akane?"

"Ranma? Oh, I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's all right."

She felt him touch her face. Run his thumb along her cheekbone. She held in her tears.

"I'm sorry, Ranma. You always have to be strong for me."

"It's what I do best."

She could hear the smile in his voice. "Thank you. I owe you. For everything."

"You don't owe me a thing."

"Why do you like me so much?"

"You make me happy."

"Do I? I feel like I'm always causing you pain."

"I never felt happy in my life, until I met you."

"That can't be true. We were always arguing."

"Not always." He moved forward. Held her in his arms. "My favorite times were when we would do homework together. Or go shopping. Or see a movie. Remember when I would just barge into your room so I could read manga while lying on your bed?"

"Yeah."

"Those were the only times I felt really happy. You always put my feelings first, even if it meant hurting yourself."

"Ranma." She wrapped her arms around his middle. "Ranma."

"And now, look at you. We're still the same. Our quiet times are happy. Our arguments are passionate. Even though we're grown ups now, doing grown up things."

"I love you, Ranma."

"I love you, Akane."

"What am I going to do?"

"We'll figure it out together."


	15. How It Ends

Akane couldn’t be with her sisters as they planned the funeral. Who was she, to them, after all? Just the girl engaged to their dead sister’s ex. She could only attend the funeral as a guest. Send condolence gifts. Remembered watching her own funeral, her family being offered compassion and prayers for her. She felt so stupid, and useless, just being a guest. Even though Ranma knew, and Kasumi knew, no one else did. No one else knew she was family. 

Ranma bought a new couch. Darker colored, this time. They still let P-chan get up on it whenever he wanted. But their plans to move back to the dojo—to home—who knew when they would be able to do that? Who knew when it would be appropriate for them to finally get married? Days passed, one after the other. 

And then Kasumi called them over, with Nabiki. Told Nabiki her father’s wishes, and that Kasumi was going to be turning the dojo over to Ranma and Kozue. 

Nabiki was enraged. 

“What claim do they have?!” she shouted at Kasumi. “Our father was nostalgic for the days when Ranma was going to marry our sister, that’s all! A fool blinded by the past."

Akane said nothing, as she sat at the table next to Ranma. She wanted to fight her sister, but how could she? What could she say? She was right, even though she was wrong.

“And what about your family, huh?” asked Nabiki. “You think your kids wouldn’t love to live here? Have a big yard, and rooms, and a dojo?”

Kasumi looked back at her sadly. “We’re moving away.”

This took the air out of the room. 

“What?” asked Ranma. 

“Tofu was offered a position at a clinic in Narita. It’s his dream job. We’ve had the plans since before Christmas, but with everything that’s happened, I kept putting off telling you.” Kasumi looked wistful.

“So you’re just going to abandon us?” Nabiki demanded. “Leave our family home with strangers?”

“We’re not strangers,” said Ranma in a low tone. 

Nabiki whirled around, focusing her attention on him. “You’re living in the past, Ranma. Any hope you ever had of running this dojo should have died when Akane did.”

“Did you think he would ever let you have it?” Ranma asked. He couldn’t hold his anger in any more. “So you could sell off a prime piece of Tokyo real estate and have it razed to the ground? Your own father couldn’t trust you, and you’re calling _us_ strangers?!”

“Who do you think you are, Ranma Saotome?” Nabiki hissed. “You think you and your little piece of ass just get to waltz in here and take control of everything?”

“How can you act so high and mighty? You expect me to believe that you care so deeply about this family, when you can’t even see—” His words stopped. He was bound. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t tell her. His neck strained with the effort. His face turned red. His jaw opened and closed silently. 

“Ranma.” Akane reached out, touched his arm. “It’s all right.” 

“And you,” Nabiki said, turning to her. They were sitting diagonally next to each other, at the corner of the table, and were nearly face to face. “You put on this whole innocent act. The sweet, clumsy, shy little Kozue. But I do know you. I’ve seen how smart you are, how angry you get. And you’ve always acted like you were hiding something. I knew it was this. I knew you wanted the dojo all along. And what a coincidence that he happens to drop dead, right after meeting you.”

“What are you implying?” Akane felt a tingling in her chest. It was going to build and build, and she wasn’t going to be able to stop it.

“What did you do to him?” Nabiki said, lifting herself up slightly, bearing her weight on the table. “Some kind of poison? Slip something into his food? What did you do, you little—”

Akane smacked her in the face. 

Ranma instantly had her around the arms, holding her back. She had never hit her sister, never ever, not even when they were little kids. Now she wanted to take her hands, wrap them around Nabiki’s neck, and squeeze and squeeze until she couldn’t breathe anymore. 

“How dare you?! How dare you?!” She was screaming, manic, fighting against Ranma’s hold. And luckily he was much stronger, but she still didn’t stop struggling. “You have no idea what you’re talking about! You’re the stupid sister! It’s you! I’ve tried and I’ve tried! Even Ranma is smarter than you!”

“Hey,” he said weakly, but didn’t let go.

“You’re too wrapped up in yourself to notice what’s going on around you! I’m going to take this dojo! I’m going to carry on! And I don’t care what you have to say about it!”

Nabiki simply stared at her wordlessly, cradling her own cheek with one hand. The slap had hurt, a lot. She watched Kozue struggle against Ranma’s grasp, kicking her legs, flailing her fists. She looked over at Kasumi, who was crying, covering her face with her hands. Then back at the other two, wearing identical expressions of rage, although Ranma’s was more controlled. The face of a weary man, who had grown, and matured. But Kozue was frantic, impulsive, the rough motions of a bratty teenager who had never learned to regulate herself. 

Nabiki dropped her hand into her lap. Blinked. 

_I_ am _the stupid sister._

“Akane.”

The room went silent. Her sister went still in Ranma’s arms. Let herself change, but not all the way. To the way Ranma and Kasumi already saw her. She had wanted Nabiki to figure it out so bad, but like this? After such a tragedy? After such an accusation? 

But her sister hadn’t known. How could she? Nabiki had always been the practical, skeptical one. Believing something like this, like her sister could come back from the dead, could never have been something she truly considered.

“Nabiki,” whispered Akane. Ranma let her go.

“Is it—is it really you?” Nabiki leaned forward, her eyes filling with tears. But unlike the others, she didn’t reach out. Didn’t want to touch. She simply started shaking in place. “I don’t understand. How?”

And Akane told her. The whole story. It was really the last time she would tell it. Ranma held her hand. Kasumi held onto Nabiki. And when Akane finished, Nabiki cried. Cried like she hadn’t in years, since her little sister died. 

And at long last, they hugged. The two of them, then all three sisters together, then Ranma too, holding each other on the floor of the living room of their childhood home. Slowly, they came apart, one by one. And they all had to leave, for now. They walked out of the front door, locked it. Walked out of the gates, closed them. 

“We’ll see you soon,” Ranma said to Kasumi. 

“I know,” she replied, smiling. 

“And one more thing, Nabiki,” Akane said.

“Oh? What is it?”

“I quit.” Akane smiled, showing her teeth. 

Nabiki threw back her head and laughed. “Really can’t say I blame you.”

They had exchanged apologies already. So this was all that was left. 

They all embraced again. Said goodbyes. Parted. Ranma and Akane walked home, hand in hand. 

* * *

Ranma, Akane, and their dog moved into the Tendo household not long after. They helped Kasumi and her family pack their things and move. Mirai cried the hardest out of all her children, but Akane promised her that she could come back as often as her parents would let her. Narita wasn’t far. And now that Akane didn’t have a regular job, she would have plenty of time to go pick her up on the train and bring her back to the dojo. And soon she would be old enough to take the train on her own. 

Akane also gave a good number of the books in her library to Toya. He was still a bit standoffish, but grateful. Neither of them knew at the time that as he became a teenager, he and his Auntie Kozue would bond deeply over their love of reading, and exchange books back and forth. 

Kenshi spent their last day in Tokyo playing fetch with P-chan in the yard behind the dojo. It went much smoother than Akane’s attempts to play the same game with the dog. She asked Kasumi if it would be okay to get the boy a puppy for his next birthday. Kasumi said she would talk it over with Tofu, after they were settled. He would end up saying yes, as their house in Narita had much more room than the clinic in Nerima had. And shortly before Christmas, as Kenshi turned six, Akane brought him his own puppy that he named D-chan at Toya’s suggestion. 

But before then, in the summer, Ranma and Akane got married. The day before their wedding, the heat was at an all time high. Akane sat on the deck of the living room, the screen doors open to the koi pond. She wore nothing but a tank top and shorts, her hair clipped up off her neck. Ranma came and sat beside her, offering a plate of sliced melon. 

“Can you believe it?” asked Akane, watching a dragonfly land on the surface of the pond. “We made it all this way.”

“We did,” said Ranma. He picked up a piece of melon, took a bite, the sweet juice running down his chin. “Of course we did.”

“Is it appropriate?” she asked. “To get married, so soon?”

“Soon?” asked Ranma. “It’s been almost fifteen years.”

She laughed. He loved her laugh. “I hope we have another fifteen.”

“Thirty.”

“Sixty!”

“Ninety!”

“Forever.”

“Forever.”

“Ranma,” she said. “Thank you. For everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were always strong, when I needed you to be. When I couldn’t be. I can’t imagine how exhausting that was for you.”

He took another bite of melon. Swallowed. “It was, honestly. And I wasn’t always. I was a mess. I was destroyed.”

“No,” she said. “Not when I needed you.” 

She scooted over, rested her head on his shoulder. 

“I’m not as strong as you, Akane,” Ranma said softly.

“Of course you are. Stronger.”

“You fought Death itself. No way I could do that.”

“That’s the thing,” said Akane. “I know that you absolutely would have.”

“Glad you believe in me.”

“I’ve always believed in you.” She sat up a little, straightening her back. Kissed his cheek. His jaw. Licked off a little of the melon juice. Stroked his face with her fingertips. 

“Hmm,” he murmured. “Save some of that energy for tomorrow night.”

She giggled. “Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of energy then, too.”

“You better.”

* * *

Akane hesitated, fiddling with her bouquet as she waited in the small area before the chapel proper. They had opted for a western style wedding, after all. She had on a white dress, a veil. They had rented the church for the ceremony, and would hold the reception in the dojo. To everyone else, it was Kozue’s wedding, even to Ranma’s mother. But Kozue and Akane both had no father to walk them down the aisle, so Genma had offered to do it, surprising nearly everyone.

So she stood arm in arm alone with Ranma’s father, waiting for their cue.

“You know,” he said to her. “I’m very glad to have you marry Ranma.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

He looked forward, his eyes far away. “When you died, I thought I had lost my son forever.”

She froze. She was compelled to deny. Act ignorant. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“That’s all right,” he patted her hand. “I don’t know how. You don’t need to tell me how. But I knew Ranma could never love anyone else but you.”

He hadn’t said her name. So she said nothing. 

“Regardless,” he continued, tears in his eyes. “My son is finally happy again. Which is all I really wanted for him. He’s my only child, after all.”

She nodded. “It’s all I want for him too.”

The music began, and they looked towards the door. 

“Shall we?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Ranma and Akane were married. They had a lovely reception. She saw so many people she knew, who didn’t know her. High school friends. Old enemies. People Ranma had helped, over the years, when he had been travelling. Even in his grief, he had wanted to help others. And Ranma’s best friend, who managed to find his way to the wedding. Of course, he had a wife of his own to help him find his way. 

Akane felt awkward, being introduced to so many people she already knew. But she did feel more than a bit pleased at Ryoga’s reaction to learning she had named her dog P-chan. 

Her sisters were there, both happy. Her brother-in-law, her niece, her nephews. Her family. There was good food, and sake, and loud music and celebrating. Ranma’s mother never stopped crying, although it was happy tears. And at the end of the night, Ranma took her hand, and they walked out of the door, together.

He told her he loved her every day. P-chan lived to be nearly fifteen years old, but they always had a dog in the house after he passed. They only had three children, not eight. And while two of them seemed to be interested in martial arts, none of them seemed interested in running a dojo, preferring to learn on the road as their father had. So Mirai became heir, and took her duties seriously. Although by the time Ranma and Akane were ready to give up teaching, she had married her wife and they had children of their own, already grown. 

Ranma and Akane only lived another fifty years, instead of sixty or seventy. And they died at the exact same moment, because he simply refused to live a single second without her. They held each other, knowing they had lived a lifetime of love and struggle and hurt. And that soon, they would pass through the big red wheel of reincarnation in the sky. Live another life.

Find each other, again. Love each other, again. 

“I love you, Ranma.”

“I love you, Akane.”

And that was the end.


	16. Epilogue

She pushed her cart into the supermarket, and one wheel caught on the corner of the entrance mat. Inwardly, she grumbled about how it was 2077 and they still hadn’t figured out a better way to design a grocery store. Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke, although in her opinion, it was absolutely broke. 

Sometimes she felt like a grumpy old woman, although in this life she was only twenty-one. The God of Death had warned her that she would have all her memories, of all her lives. Sometimes that could be too much to hold onto. And the fact that he wouldn’t, and they would have to find each other, in some way. She didn’t know where to start. 

Yet she always felt confident that it would work out. It always did, when he was involved, somehow. 

She pushed the cart up and down the aisles, picking up mostly junk food. It didn’t seem to matter how many lives she lived, she still couldn’t cook. 

Pressing on, she strolled down another aisle. Ignored the blast of cool air from the vents above. In this life, she cared deeply about fashion, and her top was cut to bare one shoulder, showing off her freckles.

She reached for a can of soup on the top shelf. Stumbled. Grabbed onto her cart for balance. Accidentally shoved it forward into the shelf. Flinched, waiting for the other cans to fall.

Nothing happened. 

She cast her eyes upward. Saw two hands above her, each holding several cans of soup. 

“You all right?”

“Yes, sorry, I’m so clumsy—”

She turned. Looked up. 

It was him.

She’d recognize him anywhere, even though he looked completely different. Taller. Short hair. Brown skin. Thick eyebrows. Wearing a polo, and a stocker’s apron. 

“That’s okay,” he said. “As long as you’re not hurt.”

He easily set the cans back on the shelf. Turned back to her. Squinted his eyes. Gave her a lopsided grin. 

“Do we know each other?” he asked. “You look familiar.”

In this life, her hair was red. She carried extra weight. Had blue eyes. Still short.

She smiled.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “But you look familiar too. What’s your name?”

He held out his hand.

“Omar Cavallo.”

She shook it.

“What’s your name?”

“Scarlett Himmel.”

“Scarlett, huh?” He grinned again and nodded at her hair. “A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“My parents were obnoxiously literal.”

He laughed. She felt her heart jump.

“You know,” he said. “Maybe this is a little forward, but I feel if I don’t ask, I’ll miss my chance.”

“Ask what?”

“You wanna go on a date?”

She smiled. Took a deep breath.

Answered.

"Yes."


	17. Notes

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 

This one is a little weird, huh? A few things:

I have also written the mirror/reverse version of this fic, where Akane and Ranma's roles are reversed. I think that one is a touch more lighthearted, but there is still plenty of angst and grief. Guess I just looooove writing about grief. Not sure when I'll post it. Perhaps soon. 

I have other stories where I've reused my own characters, or at least their names, placing them in different roles. 

P-chan is a slightly stupider version of a friend's dog, although that dog is a golden retriever and not a black lab. And also a girl.

Note on names:

Akane is a common girl's name meaning "red." Tendo means "the way of heaven." Thus, Scarlett Himmel. Scarlett being obvious, Himmel being German (and others) for heaven. 

Ranma means "wild horse." So we have Cavallo, which has a lot of meanings, but basically means "horse." Omar in Portuguese means "the sea." Because with Ranma, it always has to be water. 

idk that's it i guess thank you for reading! hope you're having a warm and safe holiday!

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 


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